


Primogeniture

by Miss_Lv



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood Drinking, Breeding, Claiming Bites, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Feral Behavior, Gore, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Multiple Partners, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Sex with Sentient Animals, graphic birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25477612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Lv/pseuds/Miss_Lv
Summary: Since Newt was turned and he first learned of the Forbidden Forest, he had longed to go exploring among it. Despite warnings of the dangers waiting for him, he undertakes the journey and isn’t quite prepared for what he finds there.
Relationships: Newt Scamander/Original Male Character(s), Original Percival Graves/Newt Scamander
Comments: 55
Kudos: 1026





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Never-ending thank you to Hera for proofreading my works!
> 
> There is a very graphic birth scene in this fic in later chapters so just a heads up if your squeamish. Details at the end notes.

It wasn’t that Newt didn’t respect Dumbeldore’s decision. 

It was far more his own desire and certainty that it would be fine. 

Newt was only two centuries old and so still a young vampire, he openly accepted that. However, he had spent his mortal life learning about magical creatures. After that, he continued to learn even more about them. With his new life, being able to see with more detail, to hear sounds human ears could not and pick up scents he couldn’t have before, Newt had learned by leaps and bounds. Among the human community, he was the foremost expert on magical creatures with his books published, every now and then a ‘descendant’ of his would add or update them. Even among vampires, some of them millennia in age had told him he knew more than they.

Newt wasn’t trying to be prideful or any such, merely factual. 

He knew about magical creatures and had spent entire decades alone in jungles and forests learning. He had lived within their habitats without fuss and managed fine on his own. Newt honestly thought he was more at ease in the wild than any city. He had met various deadly and aggressive beasts and always come out alive in the end. 

He would be fine in any natural place. 

Including the Forbidden Forest. 

It was known as the most deadly of places, those who entered never returned they said. It was filled with all sorts of vicious creatures. To the point where people would actively send the most deadly creatures to it. Ashwinders who grew too large would be released at the tree line. Poisonous ants were wiped out everywhere else in the world but also released into the forest. That’s why Newt was so intrigued. Magic born people were as bad as muggles when it came to wiping out species simply because they could. But in the rare case they wanted to preserve the beasts, they would always release them into the Forbidden forest. 

No one knew if any had survived or flourished within the forest because no one went in.

It was a massive forest surrounded by mountains to deter humans. All around it was a rough circle of ancient stones that sealed the magical beasts within. So if creatures were doing well, they couldn’t leave the forest and signal their growing numbers. It was an unknown place with no real information about what had survived over the centuries. 

Newt had wanted to visit the very moment he had learned of it, when he was only a decade old vampire. Far too young to go anywhere on his own, still learning to control his hunger and understand his new senses without accidentally hurting anyone. So he had settled for learning about this mythical place and waiting until his chance would come. He travelled where he could with his assigned ‘brother’ Theseus, an older and rather cheerful vampire. Sometimes he worked with Dumbledore himself, one of the first sires of all vampires. He had made Newt and so took the time to know him and teach Newt what he thought he needed to learn. Newt in return did as he was told, chasing down leads and learning what was going on within the mortal world. Dumbledore had made it his personal mission to see the magical born humans flourish. He wanted them to survive and grow without impacting the muggle-born. Grindelwald, the other ancient, thought the world would be better if all non-magical humans were gone. The other people of power had sides they switched from age to age, an ever going political mess that Newt had long grown tired of. Grindelwald would make a move and Dumbeldore would block him. Dumbledore would do something to inspire greatness and Grindelwald would somehow sour it. It was a never-ending cycle and Newt wanted to get as far from it as he could. 

The idea of spending a hundred or so years within the Forbidden forest sounded perfect to him. Having all the time he would need to study every creature and the environment. Centuries of books making guesses could be corrected, creatures extinct in the outside world could be confirmed or denied. 

So much could be gained. 

But Dumbledore had denied him again. 

As his sire, Newt needed his permission. Most times it was very easy, vampires would send their intentions to Dumbledore and he would happily agree. He had never stopped anyone unless he needed them to assist him in his evergoing mission. The few other times had been based on protecting those in his coven. If the situation was truly too dangerous he would forbid it.

Newt had thought he just needed more time before Dumbeldore would grant him permission. He had asked and been denied so he went out and learned more about magical creatures. He spent more time living in forests and dealing with dangerous situations. He studies what poisons and venoms would affect him as a vampire and every possible thing that could happen to him. But Dumbledore denied him again and again. 

Eventually, Newt realized that he would never get permission to go into the Forbidden forest. 

“You do understand that it’s for a reason?” Theseus asked. Newt was fresh from another denial and feeling frustrated with their sire. He trusted Dumbeldore with his life but the longer his goal was denied the more a bitterness grew. 

“I’ve been in every forest and jungle considered deadly. I’ve been to the bottom of the ocean.”

“That’s not the issue. Dumbledore knows you can mind yourself just fine.” 

“Then why did he say no once more?”

“Because it’s the Forbidden forest.”

Newt sighed and Theseus nudged his shoulder. They were in Hogwarts castle, looking over the lake as Newt got some fresh air. Trying to cool his heels after yet another refusal. 

“It’s not just a place for any magical creatures, it’s specifically the deadly ones. Every aggressive beast in the world has been sent there at some point. But beyond that,” Theseus added when Newt opened his mouth to argue. 

“It’s filled with evil. Grindelwald has twisted many beasts over time, there was an age when he would use the dark arts to create creatures. All of them were banished to the forbidden forest. That’s why Dumbledore won’t let you go there, will never let you go there. Grindelwald’s monstrosities aren’t like your magical creatures, they're something evil, twisted and wrong to their very core.”

Newt didn’t bother to argue. It was clear that Theseus was very much on Dumbeldore’s side in this. There was no point in trying to convince him otherwise. Instead he just sighed out and watched the moonlight reflecting on the water. Morning would come soon and they’d have to stay inside, Newt had always disliked that. Having to hide from the sun. But he had become very adept at building places the sunlight couldn’t touch. With ease he could make caves in forest deepen and lengthen enough to be a series of tunnels that Newt could occupy. There were potions of course, that would allow them a handful of hours here and there. Newt used them often so he could study creatures in the daytime to correctly track their behaviour and habitats. But a part of him thought he missed the feeling of sunlight on his skin. His first life was so long ago that Newt didn’t recall it clearly. It was normal for vampires to forget their mortal lives. Their memories never keeping those years as centuries went by for some unknown reason. 

Either way, Newt focused on the now and not the past. He had seen too many immortals fixated on their mortal lives in an unhealthy and demented way. 

“Just focus on the beasts of the world, I doubt you know everything just yet,” Theseus cheered and Newt managed a weak smile. 

“No, I don’t think I ever will, magical creatures are far too vast and ever changing for any single being to know them all completely.” 

Newt did honestly try to give up on the idea. 

But with all the spies and manipulation, it was certain nothing would happen without every vampire hearing about it eventually. An endless game of lies and deceptions that Newt was long tired of. 

Grindelwald found him in Paris, elbow deep in ancient books on mythological creatures that could not be found. A paradox to hunt down when one had to simply find them without looking. Newt had thought it was worth looking into. 

“Good evening,” Grindelwald greeted him, pulling out one of the chairs on the long table Newt was working at. The rest of the library was empty, humans long asleep and few vampires feeling the need to dig around the library. 

“Hello,” Newt finally offered with a sigh. “Must we do this?” He asked, trying to be polite. Manners mattered with Grindelwald. If Newt was too rude he would find himself in a dungeon being tortured for a decade or two. But in the same thought, he knew the ancient vampire would never kill him. Grindelwald had never killed another vampire. Maintaining that it was the base magicless humans he sought to eradicate.

“I think we must,” Grindelwald replied easily, looking over the Latin and French books Newt had out. 

“Is there a language left you haven’t learned?”

“Some of the dead ones, I’m working on it however, there are a few vampires who will teach them for boons.”

“Ah, boons.” 

Newt wrinkled his nose in distaste. Boons where something vampires shared, an oath to give something and have something in return. Some were minor things like teaching languages or finding rare creatures, others were a promise to kill or betray. 

“Is that what this is about?” Newt asked, a bit incredulous that Grindelwald would try and get a boon from Newt. He had always sided with Dumbledore and the immortals all knew it. He would never do anything to betray that. 

“In a sense, but no boon is needed.”

Newt frowned. 

“I’ve a message I want Albus to hear without the whole world knowing it. And you, you have a place you want to visit.”

“I’ve already been denied by Dumbeldore.” He explained, trying to look back to his books.

“But you’ve managed to sidestep him before, when you could. The problem here is the seal on the forest.”

He tried his best not to react, but Grindelwald would know either way. He could always read anyone. Newt sighed and gave up trying to read. 

“The seal is very unique and very hard to pass,” Newt noted.

Grindelwald nodded, running a finger along a book spine lazily. 

“I helped make it. Albus and I. We thought to make a place where magic could grow as it pleased, untamed by human interference.”

“But then you filled it up with demons.”

“I made life, new beasts to roam the earth. They have their place in this world.”

Newt huffed out. It was a fool's errand to argue with the vampire, he always had a point of view and would never move from it. 

“What is this all about?”

Grindelwald smirked. 

“That’s what I like about you, Newton. You’re not one for wasting time.”

Newt just waited. 

“I want you to tell Albus you overheard a message from me. In return, I’ll tell you where and when the seal will be weak enough to pass. Once you enter, you’ll be trapped for three decades before anyone could venture in to pull you out. You’ll either be dead or have proven you can be there.” 

“Why me? What is your goal?”

“To be perfectly blunt, I want to please Albus, he’s been rather cold these last few decades.”

It was a well-known secret that Dumbledore and Grindelwald were on and off again lovers. Their relationship was so complicated that few understood it, if there was real love or it was all manipulations. Newt had certainly given up trying to figure it out. 

“How will letting me into the Forbidden Forest please him?”

“That’s all for you, to prove yourself. He’d be so proud if you survived where even he doubts.”

Newt tried to ignore the barb, knowing it was just manipulation. 

“If you die, it will prove that he was right to keep all out. Either way he’ll look ever wise and all-knowing.”

“And this message?”

Grindelwald smiled, slow and pleased. 

“Quite simple. Merely let him know I’ve figured out how to wake her.”

Newt sat up, back straight and alarm coursing through him. 

Ariana Dumbledore was the reason vampires existed. She was in a magical suspension at the moment of her death since the tragic duel that had killed her. Dumbledore had worked most of his life to find a way to wake her and Grindelwald had helped for some reason. As a result the first vampires were born and a handful of others they made with magic before learning they could bite humans and turn them. Anyone who knew Dumbeldore knew of his personal mission to revive his sister one day. He worked to help spread good in the world but also continued research to revive someone without destroying any part of them. 

“How?” Newt asked at once and Grindelwald shook his head. 

“Albus will have to come find that out.”

“Why would I tell him this, more so if it’s a lie?”

“Do you really think I would lie about this in order to win Albus over? Imagine the depth of his anger if I was playing a game with him. He might never forgive me for such a terrible thing.”

Newt was at once unsure. Grindelwald was right, for all their back and forth, neither ancient vampire had ever crossed the sacred ground that was Ariana. Grindelwald had kidnapped Dumbledores’ vampires and destroyed his homes, slaughtered humans in his care and all manners of evil things. But he had never tried to harm Ariana. In one such case long before Newt had been born, Grindelwald had gone out of his way to protect the girl when Dumbeldore hadn’t been able to. 

“You don’t even have to say it’s true, only that you heard it. I’ve had a few of my own children sent to Paris here, researching for me. Wandering the same library, it wouldn’t stand out at all. You could even go and explain I approached you. You just need to tell him. In return all his focus will come to me and you’ll be more than free to explore the forest. I’m honestly very interested to know about it myself. To see what thrived in such an exciting place.” 

Grindelwald sat back, looking at Newt a moment before pulling a small black book from his coat pocket. It was plain and unassuming and Newt stared as the vampire set it down on the table. 

“I never liked the idea of having a place I couldn’t go, so I left a door in the seal around the forest. Everything you need to know is right here,” he tapped the little book and then nodded his head as he walked away. 

“He said nothing else?” Dumbledore asked and Newt shook his head. 

“Would you like to share the memory?” Newt offered and after a moment, Dumbeldore nodded in agreement. 

They were back in Hogwarts, Dumbeldore’s stronghold and current home. The visiting room he kept was covered in ancient books and amazing wonders. Each time he visited in an official way, Newt always found something new in the room to investigate. 

Dumbledore took the memory from Newt, he often did with anyone when it involved Grindelwald. He was terribly good at influencing and exploiting people. Sometimes, Newt thought it was Grindelwald’s way of sending love letters, a complicated and dangerous way to reach Dumbledore. 

Newt watched the man fixate on Grindelwald’s words, already breaking the conversation down. With a well-tuned patience, Newt sipped at the teacup of blood. It was fresh and warm still. There was a whole community of magical born humans who lived within the castle, feeding the vampires and in return learning all their knowledge of magic. 

Part of being made by Dumbeldore included never killing needlessly. Vampires could charm their prey and drink as they needed. Instead of draining a single human to their deaths, they could bite three of four and never kill any of them. Newt had been born and raised as a vampire to do so and he never minded the method. It was all very dignified, the way Dumbeldore had everything delivered in teapots and teacups. Like a warm drink. 

“He offered you passage into the Forbidden forest?”

Newt nodded, offering up the little black book. 

“You read it?”

Newt nodded again. 

“It’s fascinating to think the moon would be involved in the spell but it makes sense since it’s always present every night to keep the seal strong.”

Dumbledore took the book, fingers lingering as they ran across it. Newt wondered if he knew it was all handwritten by Grindelwald. 

Most likely. 

“You understand, that Grindelwald made creatures, designed to hunt and kill vampires, made to be stronger and to crave them.”

Newt nodded his head. 

“Werewolves.”

Dumbledore shook his head. 

“The ones we see now are shades of what he created. They have less power than the original ones and the ones we know are the weaker descendants of those I could cure. They were saved from the madness and left to suffer each full moon, but even then, they are extremely weak compared to the originals, to those that were trapped in the forbidden forest.”

Newt drank in the new information eagerly, nodding his head along. 

Dumbledore watched him a moment and then looked fond. 

“Even then, you would go, to learn all you can?”

“Yes sir,” Newt replied honestly. 

“You understand then, that I must take the memories away from you?”

Newt sighed out but nodded his head. 

“In other cases I might fight you, but with Grindelwald involved I won’t, I know how dangerous his games can be,” Newt explained honestly and Dumbeldore looked relieved. 

“Thank you for understanding.”

Newt walked away, aware that Grindelwald had manipulated him in some way and Dumbledore had undone it. He didn’t recall the details but he never preferred too. The less he knew of their ever going fight the happier he was. 

Newt went back to Paris and resumed his research. 

It took him a week to find the page he put in one of the books. His own handwriting outlining how to pass the seal on the Forbidden forest. 

It was a terrible idea really. 

Anything Grindelwald gave him was not to be trusted. But Newt already knew he would go, he had spent over a century fixated on visiting and he would see it through. He’d never be satisfied until he had set foot there and learned all he could. 

Many vampires feared death, they were scared of their immortality being taken away. Newt had always been glad to live and learn more but he had never felt any sort of need to never die. He had no interest in seeking that death, but he also didn’t fear it. 

If he died within the forest he would go satisfied that he had achieved his goals. 

As expected, with Grindelwald stirring up things, Dumbledore was distracted. He took to chasing the other vampire across Paris and left Theseus and Leta in control of Hogwarts. This made it ridiculously easy for Newt to slip off. 

Theseus and Leta had been pining for one another since before Newt was turned. While they were excellent guardians and leaders, when it came to minding the little things, they usually slipped up. 

“I’ll be leaving soon,” Newt brought up during a quiet evening of fresh blood and reading. 

“Oh?” Leta asked, not giving Newt her full attention as Theseus walked the bookshelf seeming to look for something specific. 

“The Rocky mountains for a decade or so. I’ve found hints of a beast that might have some merit. A creature that only comes out during snowstorms so all signs of it are hidden within the snow,” Newt explained. 

“That would be interesting,” Leta agreed. “Are you looking for a certain book Theseus?”

Theseus blinked, seeming to realize her attention was on him even though Newt knew Theseus was always aware of Leta. 

“Just an old law book, I thought it was here.”

“I think they got shuffled around, with the newest stack of books brought in,” Leta offered, sitting up to go help him look. 

“So I’ll be leaving in the next few days, if you need me, send notice to our contacts near the mountains?”

“Of course Newt,” Thesus offered easily, smiling at him. 

The two were too caught up to even think of asking Newt if he had permission from Dumbeldore to go. By the time they realized that, Newt would be long gone. 

Once he notified them, as all vampires had to so they could keep track of everyone, Newt left that very night. Just in case either of them caught on. Thankfully he left the castle and made it a fair distance without anyone catching up to him. He settled for the night in one of their safe houses and made plans to stop in at a few shops for proper supplies for a three-decade adventure in an unknown and hostile forest. 

Newt knew he had a week to wait before the right moon phase to slip passed the seal, so he took his time making his way to the Forbidden forest. It wasn’t far but he also didn’t want to be seen lingering in the area. There was no doubt in his mind Dumbeldore had someone watching the area given the weakness in the seal. So Newt wandered the shops and bought and sold a few things, playing the role of a bored vampire. He carefully cultivated everything he would need while making it seem as if he was merely buying for some journey that was more far off. 

Given the danger of the situation, Newt decided that some of his own tricks would be needed. So he bought or found the ingredients and made himself several vials of a powerful aphrodisiac. Most vampires could charm a human into obeying, even the weaker ones could at least seduce them into not harming them. Newt had managed to develop a similar power with creatures. No one knew about it beyond Dumbledore who would check all his young vampires’ memories from time to time. Just to ensure they weren’t struggling with immortality or the blood lust for humans. But the ancient vampire didn’t know about this newer development. Newt had combined various creature scents and aphrodisiacs to create a universal potion. He had yet to find a creature or beast that didn’t immediately fall under its sway. It was far from a controlling potion but it was one that ensured they lost interest in killing and eating Newt for the time being. Of course, it also meant that he sometimes had to play the mate, not just mannerisms and characteristics as well. Newt had been thoroughly fucked a few times by beasts. Thinking on that he also made himself some lubrication and practised a wordless magic spell that would prepare him for sex if he ended up in a more violent situation and didn’t have time for prep himself. 

Newt also made up various toxins and poisons, things that would paralyze or induce a heavy sleep. A few that made him stink like rotting illness to ward off most smart beasts. Recalling just how dangerous the forest was and with no intention of dying, Newt prepared as thoroughly as he could. 

Part of him worried that Dumbledore himself would be waiting at the seal. That Newt was already caught and the vampire was waiting with stern lectures and some long boring punishment to teach Newt better. But when he arrived early in the night, he was utterly delighted to find himself very much alone. There was no one around for miles, the stone seals left to be. 

All Newt had to do was wait for the exact moment when the moon was it’s highest and a simple incantation let him pass the seal. He noted that it didn’t actually open the seal to let things out. Rather it merely gave him entrance. Even at his worst, Grindelwald never intended to unleash hell upon the world. 

Perhaps. 

Newt supposed it was fifty-fifty with that vampire, not insane but not quite sane. 

He glanced back at the mountain peaks he was leaving behind, knowing he wouldn’t emerge for thirty years at least now. Dumbledore would be waiting with his lectures but Newt would be the only living being to have entered the Forbidden forest and walked back out. 

The forest was darker than Newt expected. 

Even in the day, the thick foliage blocked out the sunlight heavily. Newt didn’t have to maintain any spells against the harmful rays, wandering the forest carefully. He needed to find a steady food source and then somewhere in that area where he could set up a camp. Once that was done he could begin scouting more and researching. Already the flora was amazing, so different from anything Newt knew in the outside world. The forest had been sealed for centuries and had clearly developed uniquely in reaction to that. 

The beasts had similarly evolved, the stealth that even a simple bird displayed was stunning. Everything blended into the forest, always hidden away. Those that weren’t hiding were highly poisonous. Everything on the defensive. 

For good reason as well. There were various tracks of larger creatures, predators. Meals would be hard to find for them but Newt supposed the predators would have their own improvements. With all the magical beasts made and dropped within the forest without warning he supposed the ecosystem would have been shocked multiple times. 

It was utterly fascinating. 

Newt noticed the stalking within the day, feeling eyes on him and very aware he was being watched. Many magical creatures had viewed him as prey before and he had plenty of ways to work around them. He used a quick teleport spell to move a few miles in a moment's notice but was surprised to feel himself being watched almost immediately after. 

Circling around, he made note of the tracks and felt what was probably not a healthy jolt of excitement when he identified them. It was a werewolf following him, the largest he had ever seen before as well. According to the myths, the original werewolves were located within the forbidden forest. Everyone outside it was a watered-down descendant shaped by vampires’ magic and breeding to be inferior. 

What would a true werewolf be like?

Something made to match a vampire. 

Fascinating.

Newt didn’t need sleep as a human did, only eight hours or so within a week here and there. Catnaps really. He did need to drink however, and took to using his own supplies while he tested the local bloods to look for any dangers. 

It was exhilarating to find new species after so many decades finding nothing new outside the forest. Here there were giant predators and beasts that could camouflage almost flawlessly. So many beasts that could become invisible both to hide and hunt. Everything was much more violent than usual but given the nature of the Forbidden forest that made sense. 

Perhaps he was too caught up in that excitement. 

Or perhaps he was arrogant. 

Either way, Newt slipped up. 

He decided to track the werewolf following him, curious to get a look at it. He had years to study it, but he was just so curious. Would it look like the typical werewolf outside the forest or something different? There were so many myths around them, more so for vampires. It was thought that the original werewolves could have easily killed vampires, that they were made to do so even. To be their match, their superior even. 

He just wanted a peek. 

For a few days now he had studied the forest and its creatures while simultaneously keeping ahead of the beast stalking him. So now Newt planned to make a fake trail and double back so he could watch the beast follow it. He picked a large tree high up, making sure the wind was moving away from him and using a quick spell to hideaway. 

It took a few hours but Newt always was a patient man. Part of his work including spending entire days sitting still and merely observing. 

But eventually, he caught his first sight of a true werewolf. 

It looked a great deal like a dire wolf. 

Massive and covered in a healthy thick coat of fur. It didn't look like the emaciated werewolves Newt had seen before. It’s ears pinned forward as it moved through the underbrush without making a sound. Scenting the air occasionally before following the trail Newt had left. It moved on all fours but Newt could tell from the initial structure of its limbs it could probably stand and walk on two with ease.

It was all black and blended in with the heavy shadows of the forest, moving with a predator’s grace. Newt let out a little breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He was far from the beast and in no danger of upsetting it, but he could feel a sort of thrill at seeing a werewolf properly. 

It was magnificent. 

A gentle whiff of breath on his neck was his only warning. 

Newt moved with a vampire's speed, leaping away but the beast that had snuck up on him was right behind him. The heavyweight crashed into Newt as he fell through the tree branches whipping at his face. The ground was rushing up and Newt attempted to slow his rapid fall. 

His magic reacted and the beast above him snapped out, teeth sinking into Newt’s shoulder. Pain lit up his vision as he tried not to react. Patience and a calm demeanour were best when dealing with beasts but this was different. This one was out to devour him. Newt felt his fangs slide forward as he snapped his head forward and bit hard. He got a mouth full of hair but his fangs were long and he bit wide. The taste of blood burst forward and Newt drank it down immediately. Feeling power filling his veins and his magic rose up, stronger as he fed. 

They hit the ground, everything happening within seconds. Newt would have made the first impact but the beast arms grabbed him and took the impact on its hind legs with practiced ease. New drank another hard pull of blood and then leapt away. Vanishing into a puff of smoke to free himself. When he reappeared the werewolf was already rushing at him, somehow knowing where he was. Newt lept back, using apparition to jump and he felt shock slam into him when the werewolf copied the action. At once, Newt reached into his pocket and broke a vial of his aphrodisiac. So if the werewolf caught him, it would be interested in mating instead of murdering. 

A quick spell brought vines and earth up suddenly and Newt dove into them. The werewolf followed and the vines grabbed at him as Newt apparated away again. This time when he arrived in the new spot, he moved again in a different direction immediately, jumping and pausing to try and confuse the beast hot on his heels. It was following him, not missing a beat and it’s claws reached for Newt close enough to tear at his clothing and scratch his skin. 

He turned finally and cast a bubble on the werewolf. A giant blob of goo swallowing it up and keeping it in place. Normally it would stop a creature but the werewolf was rapidly breaking free. Newt ran again and didn’t look back this time. Working on hiding. He made copies of himself and sent them different ways and then shifted into his animagus form to change his scent. There were plenty of rocky areas and Newt found an ancient tree with deep roots so he could squeeze into the tiny spaces and burrow down deep, hiding in the safety of the earth. As a little field mouse, he went absolutely silent and waited for the monster chasing him. 

The werewolf came, panting and circling, knowing he was there at once. It’s paws like thunder on the earth. The smell of it trying to overpower Newt’s prey senses in his animagus form. He shivered and curled into a ball, ready to wait the beast out. 

Then something completely shocking happened. 

His animagus form fought him. 

Newt had never felt such a thing before, his body shivering as he struggled to maintain the form of the mouse. He was in far too small of a space to turn back safely and he knew right away he would have to. His little paws scrambled as he was forced from his hiding spot. He went up the tree on the opposite side of the werewolf, climbing up and up. 

After a moment he felt the tree shudder and a peek back showed the wolf was climbing up after him. The beast had thumbs and was moving up with steady grace. 

Newt climbed up through the ancient branches, falling onto other trees. His form fought him the entire time. He fell hard when he lost concentration and reverted to his human form. His vision was swimming before he made contact with the ground, jarring his arm painfully and bashing his head. 

Before he could regain his senses the werewolf was there, looming over him, snarling. Newt bared his falling weakly but he was at a great disadvantage. 

He could use a killing curse, but he never liked doing so. Only in the most dire of situations was that to be used. He would much rather find another way out of this. He wasn’t sure how intelligent werewolves like this were. But he could try. Even if it bit his throat, Newt could escape. He wasn’t sure either, if his aphrodisiac had worked on this beast. 

So, he went limp. Eyes off to the side and belly up, submitting to the beast looming over him. The werewolf paused, stopped short entirely. After a moment, a hard slap of its paw slammed into Newt and sent him rolling. He took the blow and remained passive, not fighting back at all. Even when the werewolf bit at his arm. He whined out in pain but didn’t struggle to break away. After a moment, the teeth released his arm and the beast stood over him, looking down at Newt. He could feel the heavy gaze but didn’t look up to meet it. 

After a breath, the werewolf snarled and its teeth snapped at Newt’s shoulder. It yanked hard and Newt was jerked and dragged for a moment until his shirt ripped. Claws pulled the thin material aside and Newt’s mind was still befuddled. He didn’t realize it until his trousers were ripping down his thigh that he was being undressed. The potion had worked then, which was good because the beast wasn’t likely to try and kill a mate. But now, Newt had a very different set of problems on his hands. 

He was on his stomach again, turned hard enough to wind him as he gasped out weakly. Newt didn’t have time to think before the werewolf was pushing at him. Pinning him down with it’s larger body and shoving at his bare skin. He was explored roughly and held down submissively. Wincing when he felt the hot hard length slide across his thigh. 

Newt’s fingers moved and touched a familiar sensation of his wand. His fingers closed around it and his thought he should cast a stunning spell and escape. But something about what was happening, well it felt good. Which was new. While he had mated before to escape a mauling, he had never really felt excited by it. Not like this at least. Newt felt something coursing through his blood and he knew enough about his vampire body to know something was influencing him. He shouldn’t have bitten the werewolf, he realized far too late.

He felt the dripping tip poking his thighs again, his body powerless to buck the male off of him. It had been a long time since Newt had felt so fragile. But now with the werewolf’s fangs at the side of his head he knew he had to be very careful. It didn’t help that his body actively wanted this, he could feel himself growing hard in reaction to the beast humping him. 

His trousers were torn and he was exposed and he could feel the werewolf shifting above him. Making a judgement call, Newt clutched his wand and cast a spell. He had known it since he was human, even if he rarely used it. But few gay wizards in the world didn’t know a good lubrication spell. 

Even with the spell created specifically to help ease anal sex, Newt saw stars in pain when the werewolf finally slammed home. His fingers dug into the earth as the beast slammed in without any care for him. It was brutal and aggressive, snarling above Newt as it rammed into him. 

It was savage sex and Newt gasped out with each powerful lunge, feeling far too turned on. He didn’t know if it was from the blood he drank or his own perverse sexuality but Newt was enjoying it. He did prefer rough sex over gentle but this was a whole new level. 

It felt far too long and also far too short before the werewolf was thrusting at a frantic pace. The rhythm breaking as the monster snarled out and Newt could feel its massive prick throbbing inside him. After a moment the werewolf lifted and Newt felt a sharp pain as he arched up to follow. 

They were locked together. 

Like a canine, the werewolf had knotted him Newt realized. 

When he tried to move, getting his knees under him, he heard a warning snarl and went still. The beast over him was still aggressive, even as it pumped Newt full. His cock was still hanging full and aching as a cock in his arse throbbing heavily. Feeling ashamed, Newt reached down and took hold of himself. With a few shaking jerks of his hand, he spilt over. Muffling a whimper as his cock pulsed and his seed dripped down his wrist. Once that was done, he slowly went slack, inch by inch and the werewolf watched but let Newt relax that far. 

He hadn’t expected this, Newt thought idly, face and shoulders in the dirt and up on his knees with his arse held high to hold the knot inside him. The werewolf had chased him down, had maybe even manipulated Newt into biting him out of shock in order to induce whatever was happening to him. He felt too relaxed, body sated and pleased while they were tied together. It was like a sedative, his mind at ease and feeling complicit. He had thought he had used an aphrodisiac on the werewolf but now he wondered if he hadn’t been the one dosed. 

Much later, longer than the actual sex, the werewolf moved above him and the cock in him shifted, sliding out with a wet sound. Newt’s aching knees gave way and he flopped into the forest floor, lying very still. As the beast sniffed at him, Newt kept his gaze averted and submissive. 

After a few rough prods, the werewolf lost interest in Newt and padded off. He waited a bit to make sure the werewolf wasn’t watching and waiting. Slowly, Newt got up, his body aching. He felt a rush of warm seed running down his thigh. His poor arse felt loose and he clenched as he struggled to his feet. 

Newt made it back to camp without any incidents. He cleaned himself up, changed and then moved the camp, putting up stronger wards and using magic to hide up in a tree that was thin enough it would break before it held a werewolf’s weight. 

He settled in his cot to sleep, taking a few potions for his aches. 

It had been an interesting day, not what he expected, but interesting nonetheless. He sat in bed writing notes on the interaction long into the morning. Eventually, the sunlight called him to sleep and the vampire heritage in him made him drowsy. With a yawn, Newt fell asleep, still able to feel the stretch in his arse. 

It took a few days before the symptoms began. 

He drank fresh blood the next night, cleaning his body of the lingering werewolf blood. He had thought that there would be no lasting effects. But he supposed it could be from the semen in his body as well. Newt didn’t have enough information to create a proper hypothesis. But what he did know was that he was showing signs of withdrawal, similar to needing blood. He felt his finger spasm at odd times and had thought he needed more blood. But after drinking a healthy amount, he still felt the anxiety of hunger creeping up on him. He began to have shakes and sweats as well. A very clear sign something was wrong with him. Newt hadn’t eaten anything local yet, save for the werewolf and the only notable substance that he had come into contact with was the werewolf’s semen. 

It would be interesting if he were to undergo a change but that wasn’t what was occurring. Newt could tell that much. He recalled the pain of being turned and knew his body wasn’t undergoing any major changes but merely withdrawing to something. 

It became very clear the next time Newt came upon a werewolf. 

It was a brown fellow, with gleaming fangs, and he was chasing down a deer. The deer here had a venomous bite, which was intriguing. But as Newt watched, the werewolf lost interest in the prey and scented the air. After a moment, it’s gaze turned directly to Newt and he felt something in him freeze up in reaction. His gaze broke and looked down submissively. He wasn’t sure if this werewolf would be the same, but it was certainly padding towards him quickly. Closing the mile between them with the ease of a fast predator. Newt didn’t try to run this time, waiting patiently and curious to see the reaction to a completely subservient being. He prepped an aphrodisiac potion, but he was almost certain he wouldn’t need to use it. 

The werewolf approached with caution but not the same aggression as the previous one. It was a bit smaller but still much bigger than Newt. It scented him, curious. Newt wanted to study the werewolf move but he was dealing with his own reactions. As soon as the beast was close, he had felt an immediate response in his own body, his cock getting hard and his thighs aching. He was sexually excited and wanted to have intercourse with the werewolf. Which was fine enough, but Newt was aware it wasn’t all his own, something was influencing him. Either the blood or seed from the werewolf a few days ago. 

Swallowing, he knew he was going to give in, there was no real reason to deny it. His fingers shook a bit as he undid his trousers and pushed them down, his underwear as well. He went down onto his hands and knees and simply waited. The werewolf moving closer now, teeth flashing in half-hearted aggression but his interest clear. His hot breath over Newt’s bare arse as he sniffed at him, the hot swipe of his tongue making Newt gasp out. He fetched his wand and cast the spell for lubrication just as the werewolf positioned himself over Newt. He was clumsy, thrusting without aim. His cock sliding from his sheath and rubbing on Newt’s thigh. It was hot and wet, leaving sticky marks on his skin. Newt groaned out, feeling a bit dizzy. 

It had never felt like this before, sex. Newt had never wanted it like this, craved it. Each time the werewolf thrust itself against him he gasped out and felt a jolt of pleasure inside him lighting up. Like a spark before the fire. Each time he missed the mark Newt felt more empty and hungry for that fullness from before. He felt desperate for it even, shaking a bit. 

It wasn’t like him and it wasn’t good but Newt couldn’t help but reach back. The werewolf gave a growl but let Newt’s careful fingers caress his cock and then guide it to his arse. With a low growl, the beast lunged forward just like the last one. Newt cried out this time, pushed flat into the ground, his cock trapped between his own belly and the dirt as the werewolf proceeded to fuck him viciously. Just like before, he was moving without any seeming care for Newt. Driven by a bestial instinct as if pounded into him without mercy. Slamming into Newt over and over, painting and growling over him as it rode him wildly. Newt himself was in no better shape. Whimpering steadily now as the werewolf fucked him. Each time he slammed in, something lit up behind Newt’s eyes; pleasure making him jolt. It felt better than last time, it felt so good, Newt had never known sex could feel this good. His fingers clawing at the ground as the werewolf fucked him thoroughly. 

Gasping out, Newt came without warning, crying out as his cock spurted without being touched, semen hitting the dirt as he sobbed. The werewolf didn’t take long to knot either. Slowing its thrusts as it’s cock throbbed and filled out, tying them together. 

When it started to release within Newt he gasped out, feeling his eyelids flutter as he closed them. Focusing on the pulsing inside his body that felt absolutely divine. It was clear then where the withdrawal had come from. Newt’s body singing under each thick spurt of semen being pumped into him. He had never heard of such a thing before, certainly not cases of werewolves outside the forest. But it was very clear to him that there was an addictive effect of the werewolf semen filling him. And when he had bitten the other one his magic had been off and his body sluggish. Werewolves truly were made to best a vampire in every sense it seemed. 

Laying in the dirt once more, Newt was focused on the sensations inside him and before the werewolf finished, he ended up touching himself and coming once more. His cock felt diminutive in comparison to what was inside him. His fingers had barely reached around the length when he led him into Newt. For some reason, the comparison only turned Newt on more. 

It felt too soon when the beast pulled away, cock coming with a sloppy sound as seed poured from Newt. He reached back without thinking, trying to keep it inside him. Some instinct in his mind knowing that was what he needed. 

Newt already knew this was going to happen again.

And it did. 

Other werewolves coming to find him, some more aggressive and some calm, but all interested in mating with him. Newt accepted them all, learning so much about them and finding he rather enjoyed the sex. Some others might have worried about the addictive quality but Newt was already magically addicted to blood drinking, this wasn’t so different he reasoned. 

With some research, he learned that if he put a plug inside him after a knotting the need to be mated again would wait longer, a week or so before the itch came upon him. If he let it leak freely after a knotting, he only lasted a few days. It only made sense to start keeping himself plugged. He could research creatures within the forest for longer before his mind grew distracted. Newt took to the change with his usual attitude, no reason to worry over it, just go with it as best as one could. 

After a few months, Newt did make an attempt to stop, cutting himself off, just to see what would happen. But the need was firmly planted. It had been from the first time. The hunger in him is as strong as the need to drink blood. Newt never lasted more than a week and a half before he broke and went looking for a werewolf. 

They seemed well aware of him now. 

He had seen so few in the beginning but suddenly they were all around him. No longer hiding he suspected, drawn by his scent. They loved to sniff at him, noses in his hair as they lined him up to be fucked. In four months, he had met ten different werewolves. All of them had mated with him multiple times. Once they found him, they never went too far from him again.

During the full moons, they did react more strongly. If Newt was out, he would be fucked at least four to six times. Knotted multiple times by aggressive and dominant werewolves snarling down at him. Usually he was on his hands and knees when he was fucked, sometimes with his shoulders and face down in the dirt. A few times on his back with his thighs held up high as he was rammed into. But as long as Newt was submissive, they never tried to harm him. He had marks, bites and scratched from the sheer ferocity of the matings, but nothing truly dangerous. 

It should be more upsetting, but Newt had years before it became a real concern. He was trapped in the forest with them and he would much rather have them being kind to him then aggressive. It did mean he had to submit to them each time but Newt had never minded that. 

The Forbidden Forest was worth it certainly. 

It took about eight days for Newt to walk from one end to the other, a fair-sized forest. But what was really interesting was the depth. Newt discovered it because of the werewolves, seeing them go into caves and never returning from them. Because the cave system was actually a huge expanse that went deep underground. Newt had gone for ten days without reaching the bottom. On the eighth day, he stopped seeing smaller prey and soon there were no werewolves either. After that point, Newt didn’t want to go deeper until he was more prepared and had been fucked recently. But the discovery was still amazing. He had never suspected it, walking in the caves and finding all sorts of new beasts. Creatures made and developed for the dark and cold stone. Vicious as the rest of the forest and just as fascinating. He had been warned of these evil creatures, but Newt had yet to find any. Nothing there was cruel for the sake of it, everything tuned to animalistic instincts. 

Newt had gone from knowing every magical creature in the world to having endless lists that he couldn’t identify. He had never felt so giddy, not since he was a young human boy, still learning new creatures in his study books. Back when everything was new and he was still finding his love for magical creatures. It was a wonderful feeling and no matter what happened, Newt was glad he had come into the Forbidden Forest. 

Newt got used to doing his research and then being fucked. When the hunger came, a werewolf was always nearby. Sometimes they would fight over him, snarling viciously as they leapt at one another. They were always over in a flash, never dragging out battles or trying to actually kill one another. Newt would watch them, sweaty and craving a mate as they fought for him. It felt exciting in a base way, that the superior male had won rights to him. It was twisted, but it made him feel good. Newt supposed he was getting a bit base in his own instincts, liking the animalistic thinking more than he should. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few days late, sorry!

It had been nearly a year when Newt met Percival. 

He had named the werewolves, he had a habit of assigning names to creatures and they were no different. Gawain, Geriant, Lamorak, Kay, Gareth, Bedivere, Gaheris, Galahad, Tristian, Palamedes. He could recognize each one easily enough, their fur colours and each of their builds distinct from one another. Gawain and Geriant were smaller, more submissive males that were far sneakier than the others. Both werewolves appearing silently and fucking Newt with quick and precise thrusts. Lamorak, Kay, Gareth, and Bedivere were the next group of medium-sized werewolves that would chase off Gawain and Geriant. They would also fight one another for the right to fuck Newt, powerful beasts that would growl and pound him hard and long. Gaheris and Galahad were the largest and would chase the rest away, only fighting one another when they both came looking for Newt. There were aggressive and dominant males, pinning Newt down hard and taking their time as they used him. Of them all, Newt found he enjoyed the aggressive males more, something in him answering to the harsh dominance and turned on deeply by it. Newt had gone from not bothering with sex to actively craving it and was learning a great deal about his own body and its desires. Finally, there was Tristian and Palamedes. Newt had been taken by both of them on occasion but they didn’t hang around as much as the rest, often disappearing for months and then coming back for a brief period. Newt had a theory that they had territories in the furthest areas but it was also possible they were not driven to mate in the same vigour of the others. It was hard to say for sure but Newt kept extensive notes on all the werewolves. He had drawings of them, fur samples, he knew the length of their bodies and where they had scars. He knew the werewolves very thoroughly. Which ones would linger and spend time with Newt outside of mating and which were more elusive. He knew who was playful and who was the most growly. They were his companions, here in this dark and amazing forest. 

So Newt noticed when the new werewolf appeared. He was much larger than the others, Newt could see at once. It was a clear difference, this werewolf much larger than Galahad who was the largest of the known werewolves. Newt was just coming up from the underground, peering through a small cave system to make sure it was safe to leave. There were plenty of deadly wampus types of large cats and bears with glowing red eyes that were four times the size of a grizzly. There were hyena-like creatures with fire streaks along their backs and crocodile based dragons that prowled the wet areas. Newt had been researching them all and was well aware they would delight in devouring him if they could. So he had learned to be much stealthier than outside the forest. Always slowing his heartbeat and walking with great care, ever aware of his surroundings.

As he was peering out the cave he caught sight of the new werewolf. He had thought that he might have met them all so he was intrigued by this new one. The werewolves were all spread out and seemed to have territories. He had seen the ones he knew as he travelled the forest but Newt still hadn’t fully travelled the entire area yet. There were still little nooks and places he hadn’t managed to find. It was rather fascinating as well, finding desert sands around one corner and humid jungles in another place. It seemed like the whole world’s ecosystems had been put into a relatively small area. 

The newest werewolf to appear was a very large black male with bits of white streaks in his fur on his sides. He was utterly massive and moved with the usual grace of his kind. Newt examined him under his cover, curious of the newcomer. So far, Newt hadn’t encountered any female werewolves and he hadn’t been able to estimate the age of any of the males. It was impossible to know anything about their breeding habits beyond his own personal experiences. He had hoped to find a mated pair but had no luck so far. He wasn’t even sure if they did pair off. The males all seemed to switch who was fucking Newt casually. 

Newt expected the same of the new fellow. He named him Percival idly, sticking to his Arthurian names. He remained low and hidden away as the werewolf moved on but at the same time, Newt felt that he was well aware of the vampire near him. 

They met a few days later when Newt felt the need to mate begin to chase at him. 

He went looking and was surprised when he couldn’t locate any of the werewolves. They had always been around when his body began to want. But as he walked the forest in the cool night air, he was unable to see their glowing eyes in the shadows. He followed tracks and Newt began to see a pattern. The werewolves he knew had been driven off. They were chased by a much larger male for miles and long passed that. Newt picked up four different trails before concluding that the new male had driven them off. Why, he wasn’t sure, they had all shown some territorial behaviours but also tolerated one another. Why was this new male different? Was it merely his sheer size? Certainly, the other werewolves would have lost if they fought him. Newt was fascinated with the idea of dominance and the werewolf hierarchy.

Enough so that he ended up wandering into the new werewolf without realizing it. Not that he was being foolish, but Newt hadn’t really feared the werewolves in awhile now. They wanted sex from him and he was happy to give it. Partly, Newt knew it was because he missed his coven a bit. He never liked being snuggled or constantly in others’ presence, but he did like talking to someone from time to time. He hadn’t had a real conversation in over a year now and while the werewolves couldn’t talk to him, they did provide a measure of companionship. Having sex with them prevented Newt from feeling lonely, even if he was well aware of the addicting elements of their unions. He would worry about it in twenty-nine years when he planned to leave. 

Thinking on that, Newt ended up wandering into a small clearing and right into the path of Percival. When the werewolf looked his way, Newt went to his knees, head bowed submissively. He had gotten into the habit of doing so in werewolves’ presence. If he presented no challenge to them, they weren’t nearly as aggressive as his early matings were. 

The large werewolf headed straight over to Newt, intent on him and he felt a shiver of anticipation run through him at the idea of this new, very large, male taking him. Newt had come to enjoy being knotted a great deal. It wasn’t purely sexual either, there was something very soothing about it, calming. Newt hadn’t deduced yet if it was the addictive nature or something else. He was aware that he did feel safe in a sense, because the werewolf over him was always on guard. Ears perked alert as they looked around for danger. There weren’t many creatures that would take on a werewolf, however. The other predators usually left them alone, not wanting to get into fights with a werewolf. It had become a rare quiet time for Newt. 

He wondered if it would feel the same with this new male. Percival’s breath ghosting on his neck as he circled and scented Newt. He was much bigger and Newt felt a shiver of anticipation. 

He cast the preparation spell under his breath, feeling his body slick so he could take a cock in his arse. Percival watched him as Newt undid his trousers and slowly pushed them down to expose himself. The werewolf sniffed him at once, shoving his head in roughly to scent Newt’s cock and around to his arse. A hot wet tongue making him gasp out as it lapped at his thighs. Newt shivered in answer, feeling his body getting all stirred up as his cock filled out. He could see the red length starting to drop from the werewolves sheath. A great massive thing appearing. Newt wasn’t sure if his body could handle that but he knew already he was going to try. 

The large werewolf stepped over Newt, pushing him down and Newt went onto his hands and knees obediently. Bracing himself as he felt the beast over him lineup, the pointed cock rubbing along his arse and then thigh as Percival positioned himself. 

The first push hurt, it always did. The werewolves never eased into him. Once they found the mark they always slammed the entire length in and Percival was no different. Newt crying out loud when he felt that cock ram into him. It was the largest by far and it hurt as it went in and in. As if it was hitting his stomach, it felt far too large but Newt could only whimper out. His mind already hazy with want. He needed that knot in him, needed to be tied and pumped full. 

Percival gave him that. Moving at once, pulling back and slamming back into him, fucking Newt with fast precise strokes. He pushed the vampire into the earth, his superior strength not enough to hold himself up. Newt’s shoulder and face were pressed into the dirt as he was fucked roughly. His arse both in pain but more importantly pleasure. The friction felt amazing. 

Newt gasped, feeling spit on his lip, feeling overwhelmed, his mind not able to think at all. All the mattered was getting that fat knot inside him. Newt knew it was bad, this growing hunger, fixation. But he couldn’t help it at all. He needed it, he didn’t even want to fight it, he just wanted that satisfaction. Percival pounded him thoroughly and the knot began to swell, making Newt’s whimpers rise up, getting louder. He could hear the wet sounds as seed began overflowing and Newt’s fingers dug into the earth as he felt his first release overtake him, pleasure grasped him as he cried out soundless, mouth opened wide as he came hard and felt himself being taken. He could feel the knot slotting into him deep and staying there. The first pulse throwing him into another orgasm too soon and he sobbed helplessly as he was lost, the waves of pleasure overtaking any other thought. The new werewolf looked down at him, seeming very pleased with what he had found. 

Newt took note quickly that Percival was highly territorial, not of the land itself, but of Newt. He only saw the other werewolves from a great distance, as if they were kept away by an unseen barrier. Newt found he missed them a bit, not for the sex but for the companionship. Gawain and Geriant especially. The smaller males had accepted Newt as pack and spent a great deal of time near him when the other males were off hunting and whatever werewolves did to entertain themselves. Newt had gotten used to their calm presence. He had been so certain he would be fine on his own and yet he found himself missing the few companions he had. While they cannot speak, Newt had realized long ago that they were sentient. He could see it in their eyes and actions. The way each of them had a personality of their own. In his research, it was clear they weren't the only ones within the Forbidden forest like that. There were many creatures that were sentient within the trees and underground world. They don’t have the same interest in Newt however. It’s clear the werewolves enjoyed sex and Newt wondered if they missed having him there to pair with them. Percival kept Newt fulfilled in the sexual sense at least. At least once a day the werewolf was pinning Newt down and knotting him. He also kept close, following Newt around and watching as he worked. But his presence didn’t carry the same serenity, Percival was much more intent. Newt too often found himself distracted from his work by the male. And if Newt even thought of sex a moment something in his scent changed. Because Percival would scent the air and then pad over, nuzzling Newt and pushing him over to be taken. It was by far the most sex Newt had ever had in his life and he wasn’t sure what to think of it. 

Percival fucked him so well, the large male growling just enough, pinning Newt to earth and sinking into him. His massive cock opening Newt up in ways he had never known he could feel before. When they were knotted Newt felt a euphoria, his mind hazy and drifting as he shivered and worked through a sexual high that was like nothing else. He would feel heavy after as well, as if the sheer amount of seed Percival pumped into him was weighing him down. With so much sex, Newt didn’t have to use a plug to keep the seed in him, but he was also making such a mess, dripping Percival’s seed. 

“Must you?” Newt gasped out, wishing he had more control over his body. They were pressed into a cave, hidden away and safe from predators. Newt had lost his trousers and was bare from the waist down. Percival had already knotted him that night but was cleaning Newt now. Percival would come find him when Newt could feel the mess on his thighs. He would end up on his back with his thighs spread. Percival swiping his long tongue over Newt’s hole, cleaning the slow seeping mess there. Over and over again his hot wet tongue would slide out and run over his sensitive rim. Newt’s thighs jerked every time, his breath never as even as he wanted it. His cock would fill out and then Percival would be licking at it as well, grooming Newt with far too much attention. On quiet days when Percival had already hunted and was full and sated, he would spend hours torturing Newt like this. 

“P-Please,” Newt gasped out, feeling the desire in him rising up as his cock ached. He buried his fingers in Percival’s fur, grasping at his shoulder as he whined out. Jolting as he came with a muffled sound. Feeling Percival calmly lick him through it all and then swiping up the mess Newt made. 

“You terrible monster,” Newt shivered, going slack in the dirt and feeling the pounding of the release still lingering in his body. “Shameless,” he breathed and Percival really didn’t seem to have a care in the world, licking up Newt’s thigh lazily. 

Percival was also invested in keeping Newt alive, which was nice. The other werewolves kept an eye on him but not in a protective sense so much as a claim. But if Newt went picking poisonous plants Percival was there, nipping at his thigh to make him leave them be. If a dangerous beast was nearby the larger male would scoop Newt up and cart him away without a care. It was sort of sweet but mostly annoying as Newt needed samples and wanted to view the creatures. 

“Leave me be,” Newt grumbled as Percival, carefully picking the large red berries that could kill most creatures with only a handful. Percival was grumbling at him, but did seem to be picking up that Newt wasn’t going to eat them. 

Most of his little lab he had in his suitcase he had moved into a tent that could expand to fit Percival easily. Because the werewolf refused to let Newt just go into his suitcase alone. The first time he tried, the werewolf had made such a mess, jamming himself through and growling as he scrambled to push his massive bulk in. He had made a huge mess and broke far too many bottles and ruined entire samples and projects. Newt had not wanted to repeat it again. But Percival had also had an air of fearful desperation that made Newt pause in simply locking the werewolf out. None of the others had cared about Newt going into his suitcase, not like this. So Newt adjusted and made room for a werewolf’s bulk in the tent area. Percival always content to settle and watch Newt. Only occasionally snooping around and mucking in Newt’s stocks. 

It’s clear that the beast was worried Newt might try and leave him. He was a massive and very paranoid werewolf. Which is interesting in itself. But Percival never let Newt get too far from him, always stepping in Newt’s shadow and very good at it. Eerily so even. 

Newt helped any injured creatures he could find and save and Percival was usually nearby watching him. With time he stopped looming and worrying Newt was about to get himself killed but he never went too far from him. Other predators and prey alike never seemed to realize how close the werewolf was to them. It seemed clear that Percival was a cut above the rest, the casual power he held and the ability to be hidden in plain sight. The way the other werewolves kept their distance as well, not even trying to sneak closer. It spoke of more than just fear, but perhaps respect? It’s all very fascinating and Newt had entire journals filled with werewolf behaviours now, constantly documenting and studying.

Come the night of their first full moon together, Newt expected the same reaction in Percival as the other werewolves, heightened lust and aggressive dominance. 

“Are you going to be a pushy arse tonight?” Newt asked and Percival peered at him, those golden eye intent on Newt already. 

“Of course you are,” Newt huffed, but found himself looking forward to the mating.

They had a shallow cave that they liked, it was a cleared and open space with only one entrance. So it was easy to put up a few wards and keep an eye out for trouble. Newt kept his tent set up there usually. For the full moon he made sure the door was secured but could let Percival come and go as he pleased. Newt laid down a few blankets and stripped down, preparing himself to be fucked good and hard. Percival mated with Newt often, but it still helped to prep beforehand, Newt fingering himself a bit to stretch himself open. 

Percival of course, watched this all like a pervert, staring unwaveringly as Newt stretched his arms over his head and got ready for a long sexual romp. 

“The first few moons I was a mess after,” he explained to the werewolf observing him. “My knees would ache and my wrists were useless, I couldn’t write properly the next day, not after hours of being on my hands and knees. I never realized how little physical work I did in that sense. Well anyone really, holding a position for hours is a very intense activity.”

Newt had fallen into the habit somewhere, talking to Percival idly. He knew the werewolf understood to some extent but there were still barriers between them that prevented real communication. Still, Newt liked talking to the werewolf, explaining what he was doing and such. Percival was very fond of it, always slinking closer when Newt spoke. Ears perked forward as he listened with focus. The old stories claimed that the first werewolves were powerful wizards experimented on by Grindelwald. Newt wondered how much humanity Percival had in him still, if the sound of words sparked something or if he just liked the noise. 

Once night set properly, Percival was up and moving, circling Newt intently. The Vampire didn’t offer any resistance and went down on his hands and knees easily. He should make a low stool he thought idly, to rest on when he was knotted. 

Percival’s hot breath ghosted along his back and then he was over Newt. Growling softly and pressing into him. Newt gasped out softly, knowing he was going to be well used tonight. The large werewolf does deliver that, fucking and knotting Newt multiple times. But he also does more. When Newt is seated down deep on the third knotting, Percival nudged at him, sniffing his hair and licking at his neck and shoulder. 

“Hmm?” The grooming is normal but something about it was inquisitive. But when Newt had that fat knot inside him he couldn't think clearly. Each time it pulses Newt parts his lips and gasps a bit. Every strong throb made his thighs quiver. It feels like he was orgasming over and over, like a wave, hitting the shore. The stimuli is completely overwhelming and Newt can’t put words together, much less form clear thoughts. 

Percival’s large maw closes on Newt’s shoulder and slowly sinks in. It took a moment before the vampire realized it, the pleasure too commanding. It’s not a sudden aggressive bite, but it is a bite nonetheless. Those long and deadly fangs slowly pressing into Newt’s skin. More and more until it gives way and rips. 

Newt whimpers under the pain, feeling his skin part as the teeth pierced. 

When Percival pulls his head away, he doesn’t free his teeth fully and it tears the punctures more. Leaving a large gaping bite mark on Newt’s bare shoulder. 

“Per-perc…” Newt can’t do anything, helpless against the mix of pain and pleasure as he sobs out. It’s a bit terrifying he thinks in clearer moments. That when he’s knotted and lost in that haze, he could easily be killed and not care. Percival could tear out his throat and Newt’s wouldn’t have the sense to stop him. There’s a trust between them, one Newt has with all the werewolves he’s mated with. He submitted to them in this way, letting them have that chance to kill him. He’s lucky they want to fuck him and not devour him up. 

He shivers when Percival licks the bite and a slow long sweep, cleaning it as if he hadn’t just caused it. Newt’s locked to him and can’t do much, lost in that haze of pleasure that always takes over his mind when he's pumped full. But Percival keeps licking at the bite, his tongue rough enough that he’s tearing more skin and Newt groans in pain, feeling blood running steadily. The time is hard to track when he’s knotted but the blanket under him is soaked with blood and Newt has enough of his mind to know he’s lost a great deal of blood. 

He tried to push the werewolf’s muzzle away but Percival ignored him, licking insistently. The danger doesn't properly settle with Newt until his vision begins to bleed. Everything going unfocused and his mind getting sluggish in a much more alarming way than just sexual pleasure. Newt’s body needs blood, Percival is taking too much of his own. Newt might very well die here if he doesn’t drink. 

“S-stop,” he slurs but Percival persisted, tongue dragging and blood running down Newt's shoulder. Percival leaned over Newt more, slotting his large chest to Newt’s back, he’s much larger than Newt and his body seems to swallow Newt’s up. 

His vision wavers again and Newt knows that if he doesn’t drink immediately he could be in genuine danger of falling into a deep sleep. If that happened he would be in serious danger. He pushed at Percival more but the werewolf wasn’t nudged at all, remaining calm and steady in his work. Under the thick fur, Newt could feel the steady beat of his heart, he could hear the blood moving in his body. When he leaned up and twisted around, Percival didn't try to avoid him. He finds a spot where he can bite past the thick coat into Percival's bicep and sinks his teeth in as deeply as he could. The blood that came was hot and delicious on his tongue. Newt shivered as he sucked hard and pulled more into his body. He felt famished and drank long, much longer than he should. But Percival doesn't seem bothered by it at all. With the way they heal so quickly, Newt wondered how fast the werewolves' bodies replenished blood. His stomach felt heavy, filling out with such a plentiful meal. The fact that he had already been knotted multiple times, swollen with seed and now blood as well. Newt usually drinks small amounts over the day rather than a single feeding. So it was a bit like he gorged himself sick when he finally let’s go. 

His fingers close over the bite but it only takes a few moments for the open wound to heal over. Newt drank more than he should have but Percival seemed perfectly fine, not swaying or looking dizzy at all. His tongue was still lapping over Newt’s shoulder. It was mostly healed now after he drank but there were a few tears Percival was licking at that kept bleeding. With a full meal like that, Newt no longer worried and let himself sink back into the haze of the knot. 

It took about an hour after their last knotting for the realization of what he’s done to sink in. 

It began with little aches in his belly that slowly turned into throbbing cramps. Newt’s already redressed and trying to make notes at his makeshift desk. He settled in a shallow cave and Percival was resting near the entrance. Newt always took a few tonics after moon mating and he added one for blood poisoning this time but he knows his body has already absorbed far too much blood. He could try to expel it as his body began to cramp, forcing himself to be sick but as he moves the pain ramps up and Newt stumbles, falling into the cool dirt with a hiss. Laid out on his side, Newt curled up into a ball to try and combat the pain coursing through him like fire. 

Percival’s nose sniffed at Newt but the werewolf doesn't seem shocked or worried. 

He had intentionally done this to Newt then. That hurts him far more than he had expected, feeling betrayed as the beast looked down at him. 

“Why?”

There's no point in trying to attack the werewolf in his state. Newt doubted he even could, he can’t move at all, a cold stillness creeping over his bones. He buries his face in the dirt and takes puffing breaths through his mouth, struggling to breathe and shivering as cold descended on him like a death shroud. The werewolf over him moved and his warm bulk was around Newt’s body, curling up against him. He’s trying to comfort and that gives Newt a sense of relief. If the werewolf was killing him, he wouldn’t be so kind, would he? With that thought in his mind, Newt pressed his face into warm fur and tangled one hand in the fur as he felt his consciousness fading as his vision bled. 

Deep sleep was a vampire's way to deal with serious injuries or starvation. It was an induced coma that let his body take what little resources it had and use them to help keep him alive. When the healing was done he would wake with a fresh burst of adrenaline to go and hunt quickly. If it was starvation, his body would sleep until he could sense food nearby. 

In a mixture of both, it was a fevered state. Waking and eating and then falling back under, fleeting moments of awareness and then slumber closing in once more. Newt could taste blood, fur pressed to his lips and chin as he drank heavily, not quite awake but hungry still. 

He faded in and out, only aware of being hungry and the presence of Percival nearby him always. 

When Newt woke properly, his whole body ached terribly from disuse. His muscles were all cramped and weak. He rolled onto his back slowly and became aware of a very unpleasant scent. His skin was covered in grime and dirt, blood long dried on his face and neck. He was an utter mess and reeked terribly. As he shifted to roll onto his hands and knees, his pillow moved as well. Percival stretching out slowly with a long breath. Newt was surprised to find Percival in similar shape. His fur was uncared for, tangled and dirty. He was also notably underfed, his ribs beginning to show. He must have stayed with Newt the entire time, not going out to hunt. 

He greeted Newt with nudge, pressing his head to Newt’s in a greeting gesture. Newt felt a very distinct impression of relief that he was awake and moving, and also an image of the nearby water pool. 

“Oh,” he breathed, shocked but pleased with this development. A mental link somehow forged between them. 

Fascinating. 

Reaching out carefully, Newt ran his fingers along Percivals large muzzle and could feel various impressions. Percival was hungry and wanted to wash, but his attention was on Newt, making sure he was healthy, recovering. 

“I am, I feel much better,” Newt reassured carefully. 

Newt was shaky on his feet and his clothing was stiff with dirt and disuse but he managed to get up. Percival was at his side, encouraging Newt to lean on him a bit as he was led into the caves and underground. His eyes adjusted, letting him see as he wandered into the pitch black. 

He should have been starving but he felt fine, it was clear he had been feeding off Percival. 

The dampness of the caves turned warm and humid. Percival showed Newt a natural spring of hot water. It was close to their cave but Newt had never wandered down into this area before. The caves were like a labyrinth that he was still mapping. 

“Oh my, yes,” Newt breathed, stripping down at once. Still, he checked for any predators or dangers but the water pool was safe. He gasped out softly at the heat as he sank down into it slowly, savouring it. He usually showered at the stream, using magic to heat the water and clean himself up. But even with wards, the water was dangerous, home to so many creatures who wanted a drink and meal. 

“That feels wonderful,” he admitted freely, cleaning his skin and dunking his hair to wash the grime out. He would come back later and bathe properly but for now this felt so pleasing, as if he was shedding filthy clothing. The dried dirt, seed, and blood he was caked in dissolving and coming free in the hot water. 

Percival laid on the hot ground nearby and Newt felt a measure of safety here. There was only one way in and it was far back enough that any predator would be seen. Percival was very good about finding places like this, where nothing could sneak up on them. Sighing out, Newt laid back and enjoyed the luxury of the bath. 

Newt heard the werewolf leave distantly, but with his eyes closed he was able to tune into all the sounds nearby and didn’t worry. He cast a weak ward just in case but otherwise remained unbothered. Percival never went far and his concern for Newt’s well being had been clear when they touched. 

A shocking development. 

He had known Percival was sentient but he hadn’t realized the werewolf had access to magic. That he would have a way to create a path of communication between them. Newt wondered what else had occurred, he would have to give himself a very thorough check over to document anything he could find. He didn’t feel different, his body the same and his magic steady as his heartbeat. 

The scent of blood calling to him a sweet allure made Newt focus on the present. Percival returned with a large stag like beast in his jaw, still weakly kicking. Feeling hungry himself at the scent of fresh blood, Newt didn’t turn away the meal. He left the hot water, uncaring for his nudity as he knelt to feed. 

“Thank you,” he offered to Percival politely and then he drank the blood of the dying animal quickly, ending its suffering. When he was done, he went back into the hot water, it was doing wonders for his sore muscles. 

Once he sat back in the water and was clearly done with the kill, Percival began devouring it himself. Breaking the bones in his jaws easily and eating every single bit of the beast. His teeth render fur and muscle so easily. Newt supposed if Percival had really wanted to hurt him when he bit Newt, he could have. The werewolf could have ripped his head clean off. No, that bite had been something distinctly magical. They had exchanged a great deal of blood and Newt had heard of pacts and bonds being made in such a fashion. Vampires would make boons with an exchange of blood and magic, tying themselves to one another. Newt wondered idly how much Percival knew about vampires. 

Once he was cleaned up and fed, Newt felt much better. The fog of the deep sleeping receding back. He was actually aware of Percival now, a new presence about him. When Newt focused, he could pick up impressions of emotions and thoughts. Of wanting to eat more and certain areas of the forest that would have the best prey. When they physically touched, the communication became far stronger and much more clear. Almost as if words were passing through them but something more, emotions shared, thoughts even. It was a new level of telepathy that Newt was both interested in and a little intimidated by. Thankfully if they weren’t touching it was far more muted and more of a vague awareness. 

“Is this because of the blood?” Newt wondered, peering at the very large werewolf looming over him. They were back in the cave now, Newt cleaning it out and tidying everything up. He had slept for forty-two days, the time tracked on clocks he had set up. Percival’s gaze swung to his when Newt spoke and he felt the impression of something positive. Newt’s long fingers buried in fur so they could communicate in this new way. After a moment, Percival’s great head dipped in a nod. 

“Oh!” Newt blinked, caught off guard a moment. “Can you understand me?”

Another nod. 

“Could you always?”

A negative shake of his head. 

“So because of the blood exchanged, we’ve created a link of some sort, which allows us to communicate better?”

Percival nodded again, Newt feeling the impression of amusement. He supposed he was rather excited with it all. Things like this didn't happen often and it had been many decades since anything new occurred to Newt himself. The life of a vampire was a stagnant sort. He no longer aged or changed in any way, his body always healing back to the same state. Most spells wouldn’t affect him either. This new thing with him and the werewolf was interesting more than creating any sort of worry or fear within him. Newt wanted to explore it and to learn all he could. 

But Percival stood up and shook off a bit, his large coat still a bit ragged looking. His ribs were visible as well and Newt could feel a pang of hunger running through him. Percival gave him the impression of stalking and hunting and Newt nodded his head weakly, understanding. The werewolf wanted to eat. 

“Why didn’t you before?”

Percival peered at him and Newt could feel a worry, a small figure curled up and sleeping heavily. A need to protect it and chase off the various predators who came to investigate the easy meal. 

“You looked after me? Thank you.” 

Percival watched Newt a moment more before nodding his great head and then padding off, breaking the connection. The werewolves could run on all fours or move on two legs. It was clear four were better for speed and hunting however, Newt watching him disappear into the thick trees. 

He set about dusting and rearranging all of his belongings, collecting everything up and seeing what was still good. Thankfully the creatures in his care had all been able to leave on their own. Newt had left a fail-safe in his wards so that the creatures could leave if he didn’t return in a timely fashion. His food store for the creatures had been broken into, some beast eating its fill before leaving the safety of the case. Others had explored his instruments and paperwork, making an utter mess of everything. But a cleaning and mending spell helped him put things back into sorts. His research was all saved with careful preservation spells. 

Newt cleaned up his case and then tidied his tent as well. He considered moving it somewhere new briefly but it felt unwise. Percival had clear intention to help guard Newt and it seemed wiser to stay within easy reach of him. The cave they were in was large enough to stand, even for the werewolf and had plenty of room. It went inwards but not overly deep. It was sealed as well, with only one way in or out. It made sense to set up within, to establish himself somewhere to stay. The tent itself felt a bit small, so Newt extended the wards of it, encompassing the entire cave and then putting down a few carpets and his sleeping cot. As a vampire, he didn’t sleep a great deal, but when the sun was the highest, he did feel the tiredness overtake him. He would sleep four hours a day. So he put the cot in the furthest back, where the cave bent a bit, far away from any hint of sunlight. Thankfully, the caves opening was overgrown with foliage and the leaves provided a curtain from the sunlight. 

He couldn’t help but feel in a good mood as he set up the space to suit his needs. He fully intended to explore this new bond he had with Percival and to continue his work with various creatures with the Forbidden Forest. In only a few years' time, Newt had learned so much, he would have so much to share with Dumbledore when he left at the end of the thirty years. 

Fighting a yawn, Newt didn’t want to sleep after already missing so much time to deep sleep, but his body still needed to be at rest during the peak hours of sunlight. So he made up the cot and slipped in, certain the wards would keep danger out but already altered to let Percival back in. 

Newt woke slowly, feeling the sunlight still high as he struggled to come awake. Feeling calloused touches on his skin, his shirt ripping gently. He blinked, too lost to wake up fully. Percival growling above him, pressing in close to Newt who was laid out on his back in the cot. 

Newt tried to mumble something but nothing came as he yawned deeply. Percival’s warm breath on his skin as he felt lust and the hunger to mate being pressed into his mind and stirring up his own body. The more Percival pressed against Newt, the more he felt the need to mate. Lust stirring up as Newt blinked awake lazily. He was still lingering in the deep sleep but he could see faint sunlight at the mouth of the cave. It must still be daytime. 

“Later,” he breathed out but he could feel the urge to be fucked taking dominance. Percival was licking at his neck softly, the smell of blood and gore on his breath. He must have just eaten then. The vague image of another stag running away and then being caught passed to Newt. The focus in the stalking and the excitement of the brief chase, the victory when the animal went down and the fist taste as Percival sank his teeth deep and began ripping into the meat. 

Everything was muddled and Newt gasped out as he felt the clever claws pushing his trousers down. He muttered a weak spell to help ease the way, just in time as well. Percival was sated with food and his usual vigour wasn’t present. He didn’t feel the same edge of desperation to breed Newt and tie him to him. They had a new link, Newt realized, running his hands through fur and gasping out when he felt the stretch inside him. Percival pushing his far too large cock into Newt slowly. He hadn’t mated in a while and there was a bite of pain but Newt bore it easily, still not fully awake. The sunlight was too high, his mind sleepy as the cot under him creaked with each lazy thrust. Newt was spread out on his back, Percival over him facing him. Buried inside him with his weight on his back legs and not the poor cot that would never hold a werewolf’s weight. 

He could feel himself, flashes of pleasure. Newt could feel the tight hot heat around his cock. The friction and how divine it felt to rock back and forth. He gasped out softly, blinked up at Percival. Their gazes locked and Newt didn’t look away. Percival didn’t get upset, watching Newt with his usual fixation. The sex feeling far more intimate than anything before. Emotions and sensations shared between them. 

The knot came and Newt whimpered, feeling that same high waking up in him as Percival tied their bodies together. He could feel the same overwhelming pleasure around his cock, his knot throbbing as he bred his mate. Newt shivered, his mind all disarrayed as he felt his climax take him. 

Thankfully, sex wasn’t always like that, far too intimate and something far more than just mating alone. But it would happen for time to time, lazy sex with both of their minds disoriented and mixed together. Usually however, Percival was more dominant and fixed on fucking as much seed as he could into Newt. That, the vampire understood and he delighted in the high of a knotting. No worrying thoughts following him as he just let everything go for a bit. But as they adjusted and lived together, communicated more, Newt knew that his goals were changing. He had planned to leave in thirty years but the longer he spent with Percival the more he knew he had found something unique. 

The werewolf was bossy and stubborn, always trying to overfeed Newt and fretting over him. But he was also a strong presence and someone Newt could depend on to watch his back. He worked with more focus, knowing Percival wasn’t going to let anything sneak up and attack him. When the werewolf was near, Newt could let his guard down more. 

It was nice. 

Newt knew very little about the beginnings of werewolves, only that they were made to be equal if not superior to vampires. Grindelwald had created them, muddling with all sorts of magic and doing experiments on human wizards as he pleased. Why he made then and what he intended was still unknown. Newt wondered if he had designed the sexual element between the two species. It did seem like something the perverted man would do after all. It was also too intentional to not have been placed there for a reason. Werewolves and vampires were sexually compatible. 

“Are there many other werewolves within the forest?” Newt asked one lazy night, idly sketching Percival’s feet. He had convinced the werewolf to spread out his paws and toes so Newt could document the joints and make accurate depictions of his bone structure. Percival grumbled a bit in reply but gave an impression of the ten he knew and five others. His front leg? Arm? Was touching Newt’s ankle so the thoughts were clear. The jealousy as well. The need to keep Newt away from the other males and keep him for Percival.

“Possessive,” Newt commented and Percival seemed to confirm and not care about it. Newt was his. 

None of the other werewolves were even close to being as large as Percival. He was the strongest of them, the oldest and still able to recall the most. The thoughts were muddled and at times confusing to Newt. They weren't his own and he wasn’t always sure what they meant, but he did understand that being close to the vampire helped Percival think more clearly. He could recall a life in the Forbidden Forest and very faint things from before flashes of a village, or a cloth of a shirt, scents of flowers, the sound of a pot boiling over, the feel of a blanket under skin. They were few but very precious and Newt gladly gave his own memories to Percival, helping him retake a grasp on humanity through them. Percival was intrigued by all the travelling Newt had done, seeing so many places and learning so much of various cultures. Percival wanted to know more and Newt longed to show him, to let him experience it for himself. 

“Is there something you want? From me that is?” Newt supposed it would be good to have an idea what Percival was hoping he would get from Newt. It was clear he wanted companionship and felt the drive to keep a mate but Newt felt like there was an underlying goal as well. 

What he didn’t expect to see were various creatures. Shadow cats and giant moles, poisonous birds and crocodiles that were larger than Percival himself even. More utterly amazing and fascinating images came until Newt realized what linked them all. They were paired with young. 

“You want a mate and... children?” 

Percival’s ears perked and he lifted his head to nod, peering at Newt fixedly. 

Before Newt could explain he couldn’t give him pups or stay permanently, his mind was flooded with a painful loneliness and a gut-wrenching need to breed. Images and thoughts flashed at him far too fast overwhelming Newt’s mind. They had been alone for a great deal of time, centuries and more. There had been more but they caved to a feral madness that claimed them and killed them. Newt had been an unknown cure, somehow stopping the creeping madness in the werewolves in the forest. They had bred him not out of pleasure alone but the drive to reproduce. It was built within them, the need to hunt and breed. Base animal instincts they couldn’t ignore. There were less than twenty left, all males, there had only ever been males. But if they could breed, they could live on, their young could carry the species onward. The other werewolves were keeping their distance but watching as well, waiting for pups, eager to try and find mates from Newt’s breeding. 

Newt laid back in the blanket, basking in the dizzying thoughts and drive. He felt it in his mind, echoing in Percival. A very simple need to see young ones born. It was as strong as the need to drink blood or breath air, instinctually. Something about it pressing, screaming at him, it was ramped up, placed. Grindelwald had created them with a fixation on breeding. 

“Oh,” Newt breathed softly. He wasn’t sure how he could help, if he even could. But he would like to. To help this dying race survive. It wasn’t right for Grindelwald to create a sentient race and then shove them into a cage to die off.

Percival nuzzled close, pushing the idea of pups into Newt’s mind more intently as he moved to crawl over Newt and push him back into the dirt. 

“I’m afraid I can’t help you with that,” Newt explained softly. “I’m a man, I’m not capable of carrying children.”

Percival huffed at his skin, the idea of the full moon and Newt curled up on himself in his deep sleep coming into his mind. There was something more there, intention. But the thought wasn’t clear enough, what Percival was trying to explain but it was lost as lust rose up between them. 

It was comforting to feel that the pull was just as strong for Percival as it was for Newt. Hunger waking up and urging them on, to come together and mate, to tie and breed. 

There used to be an element of pain with knotting, not enough to deter Newt but still present. It was absent now, since the full moon. Newt’s body could take the fucking and knotting with far more ease. Percival always grumbled and broadcast his pleasure to him, overwhelming Newt’s mind as he panted for more. 

Somewhere along the way it changed, Newt would realize after. 

There was a new desperation to their sex. Percival ramming into Newt and Newt slamming back just as eagerly. It wasn’t about getting knotted and finding that climax high either. There was something in the vampire that was craving it, that wanted to be pumped full of Percival’s strong seed. 

It really was obvious when Newt looked back on it. 

The two of them in their cave, lost in one another, Newt getting pounded so good and loving it, crying out for more. 

“Come on,” he panted. “Fill me up, don’t you want to breed me?” He asked and the words brought an immediate reaction, Percival snarling and fucking more frantically. The idea of Newt getting pregnant making Percival almost wild. He wanted it so badly, wanted Newt with his pup in him, wanted that family. 

Newt cried out, the thoughts all mixed and he wasn’t sure which were his anymore. All he knew was that he needed Percival to knot him, to pump him full of babies. He couldn’t even have children but the thoughts remained the same. Circling viciously and Newt couldn't think beyond the pleasure and the desperate hunger to be impregnated. 

“Percival,” Newt cried out, feeling that knot rising on the werewolves, cock. Filling out to tie them together and fill Newt up. To keep the seed in deep and make the chance of successful breeding more likely. Newt howled out, feeling so very much out of control as he came hard at the idea. 

Newt tried not to linger on the idea of it outside of sex, of being pregnant. But the thought found its way into his mind. It was persistent, a little whisper of his belly swelling and life beginning. To the idea that he could save their dying species. He saw the other werewolves more, ever from a distance but still as close as they dared. Percival was clearly the strongest of them and they respected his claim on Newt it seemed. But Newt felt bad that they were driven away from him. He had gotten used to each of them and their personalities. It burrowed under his skin and Newt found himself wondering if there were spells for it. If he could do it for Percival. If he could just breed with him, Newt knew everything would be better. He documented the thoughts of course. Newt could tell something was influencing him heavily and while he was caught up in it he could keep track of it all. There was no need to fight it really, because in the end if he could somehow provide Percival with children, it could save the werewolves and there was nothing negative about such a thing occurring. 

“I do wonder what it all means,” he mused to Percival, using the napping werewolf as a pillow while he took notes. 

“There is something very clearly happening, but I can’t quite place what it is.”

Percival rumbled, sleepy impressions of Newt being his and little puppies flashing in his mind before the werewolf fell into a light doze once more. 

“Very insightful,” Newt replied, Percival’s mind always giving the same reply, of Newt being his and bred. 

Newt goes on walks and Percival usually follows him, He would give distance when Newt wanted it but never too far. He was fiercely protective of Newt. It would feel smothering, but Percival’s mental health was linked to Newt now. By simply being near, Newt was helping tremendously. Percival’s focus and ability to think clearly and beyond base instincts was steadily climbing. Newt would read to the werewolf and Percival would listen intently, picking up on words and beginning to understand learning. Newt couldn’t fault Percival for wanting to keep close with that in mind. 

The barrier around the forest remained as strong as ever, repelling anything that got too close. Within five feet of it, the seal would pulse and push living things back. Newt had learned that plenty of creatures were trying to escape. He could sit up in a high tree at the edge and watch all afternoon. Various beasts approach and inspect the barrier. Trying to dig under it or crash through. The forest was vast, but it wasn’t necessarily large enough for the number of creatures who lived within. There were so many powerful predators, crammed into an area not meant to house them all. They knew that in some sense and wanted to be free, they wanted to move past the cage and into the world. It made sense that Albus didn’t want so many powerful beasts in the world that they ravished it unintentionally. But these beasts also had a right to be in the world. They had been free at some point, most of them at least. Some were experiments gone wrong or such, but even then, they were still living things. Newt had found some very aggressive beast but never anything purely evil. Never these demons that he heard of. It felt wrong that they should be trapped simply because they existed. The land they were trapped in wasn’t ruined by them either, they had adapted to it and the forest had evolved to suit as well. Given time, the rest of the world could do the same. 

Newt left the tree he was sitting in and approached the barrier, hand out as he felt the crackling power. It truly was an immense feat, the sheer power being used to keep it in place. So that nothing could get by the magic safeguard. 

It wasn’t something ever intended to break. 


	3. Chapter 3

Percival began acting odd about a year after the full moon bite, doting on Newt more. He would herd Newt to the hot springs and bring him fresh kills to drink from. He began to cling more, sniffing at Newt and growing anxious if Newt left his sight. He stayed closer and growled at predators that got too near. 

“I’ll never be able to learn anything about them if you keep scaring them off,” Newt grumbled more than once but Percival was suddenly very stubborn in this. His behaviour changed sharply and left Newt to try and figure out why. Nothing major had happened, they still mated and stayed in the same cave. The other werewolves gave them space. Newt honestly couldn't find the reason for the change in his werewolf. 

“Yes, yes,” Newt sighed as the werewolf grumbled at him for daring to step behind a tree and out of sight for a second. 

“I’ve still a great deal to learn about this forest, so you must ease up a bit,” Newt suggested as he settled in some soft moss to inspect the mushrooms there. As he had previously suspected. The mushrooms were actually living creatures. They went still when they perceived danger and then uncurled to keep picking at green when they felt safe. It was interesting how many creatures in the Forbidden forest had evolved to look like plants in order to throw off predators. 

Newt took his notes on them trying to sketch them. He blinked when they all dropped still and then looked over his shoulder as Percival drew closer to him. Trying to see what had Newt so fascinated. 

“Really now, I know you can be quiet if you please.” 

The werewolf huffed, somehow going from that deadly beast to put-out dog so easily. Still, he settled with his back against Newt’s knee and rested, eyes always open and alert. 

Newt watched him a moment, feeling fond. 

To many, a werewolf would not be considered good company but Newt found himself content. He did wonder how Albus, Theseus and Leta were, but he was also sure they were fine. They had always been able to manage themselves. Thirty years really wasn’t very long to be immortal either. The time would go by quickly and Newt hoped he would find a way to help the werewolves trapped here. He had been considering looking into ways to bring Percival with him when he left as well. Or perhaps even staying longer, thirty years really was nothing for the vast studies Newt had yet to do in the Forbidden forest. But either way, he wanted to help the werewolf population. There must be some way to help them procreate. 

The answer to that crept upon Newt slowly. 

The first real sign was his growing hunger. Usually a meal a week was more than enough to feed him but he found himself wanting more. He drank deeply and still felt hungry, which was odd. Percival had started to bring Newt his kills, sharing them with him. Newt tested them of course, sampling their blood and making sure he could digest it before he fed. But after years in the forest he knew what beast he could drink from safely. It had become a habit for Percival to share his kills with him and Newt didn’t think about it. He just fed as he pleased and eventually realized he was eating far too much. 

The next worrying thing was that the chunks of raw meat were beginning to look good. Newt hadn’t eaten since he was a human. It was a con to some and a pro to others, that blood was their only meal. Newt had never minded and drank easily, not a picky sort who only wanted the freshest of blood from this pure line or that. Nonsense really. 

But either way, Newt hadn’t needed or wanted to eat since he was turned. The fact that the uncooked meat was beginning to look and smell like something he wanted to nibble on was alarming. Percival was keen on it as well, offering chewed up chunks to Newt eagerly, watching him with his intent gaze. 

“Really, I’m fine,” Newt assured him. Eating would only make him very sick, as his body couldn’t properly digest food anymore. It was common with the recently turned, to think they needed to eat and try. To be heaving for days afterwards. 

But the hunger persisted and Newt began to feel something off within himself. Through his magic, he had learned to keep tabs on himself. Dumbledore taught all his vampires how to do it, to check in with their bodies and see if something was amiss. It was easy for vampires to miss critical illness, their bodies not the same as a human’s anymore, not as sensitive to problems within. It occurred to Newt he could look within his own body to try and see why he was feeling so hungry and why meat was beginning to call to him. 

So on a calm day he settled beside Percival’s bulk, set a few wards and shields, and then closed his eyes. 

It was clear almost immediately. 

Newt’s eyes snapped open and he felt his heartbeat race. His lips parted but no words came out. Maybe he was wrong, he thought, knowing he wasn’t. 

He checked again, pressing his hands to his midsection as he used magic to explore. Percival noticed it at once, lifting his head to watch Newt’s hands. It should have been more disturbing but that instinctual thing in him leapt happily. Newt should be worried but he could feel a deep-seated pleasure at the idea he had created life. 

The idea that there was anything there was ridiculous and near impossible. The sort of magic needed to impregnate a man was extremely complicated. The idea of impregnating a vampire male whose body and organs worked differently was something else. A kind of magic Newt had never heard of before. 

“Did you know about this?” Newt asked the massive werewolf beside him. Percival’s ears flicked forward and he offered a nod in reply. Since they had started staying together, Percival seemed to pick up more clear thinking and a year into their time together they spoke easily enough. Newt suspected he had something to do with it but their communication was still too limited for him to know for sure. 

“This was why you wanted to mate me?”

Percival’s eyes bore into him. 

“Is this why… why, I was sick? Back then? My body was struggling with this change?”

Percival’s large head nudged at Newt and thoughts flashed. Old magic and the image of having human hands and feet, blurry and confused. Someone standing over him, looking down while he was in agony. White hair and a cruel smirk. 

“Grindelwald,” Newt muttered and Percival snarled at the name immediately.

“This is all wrapped up in him, isn’t it. He made you for this, to breed. That’s why you were so drawn to me and I to you. Why the need to impregnate me became such a fixation for us both. That manipulative bastard made it this way. And then he sent me in here, knowing what would happen.”

Newt sighed out, he really, really disliked being used and this was a rather large violation. Percival’s muzzle pressed at his shoulder, a concern flashing through him. Newt reached up and pet the werewolf soothingly. 

“It’s not your fault. I just really dislike that vampire.”

Percival snarled in agreement. 

“Why would he give you the ability to breed vampires? More so male vampires?” Newt touched his stomach again, feeling a twist of fascination at the sheer power of such magic and knee jerk reaction to get what was in him out. What would it be exactly? A werewolf or a vampire? A hybrid of them both? Would it kill Newt to carry it?

“Grindelwald is dangerous on a good day, when it comes to his games, it's near impossible to escape unscathed,” Newt explained and Percival agreed, a distant memory of intense pain.

“I imagine you understand, considering you were a human once?”

Percival nodded. 

“I’m sorry that he did this to you, whatever his reason. No one should have their humanity taken from them.”

Percival nudged at Newt’s arm again, moving to place his head in Newt’s lap and nudge at his midsection. Newt ran a hand through his thick fur and he could feel the impressions. A deep seated need to procreate, it was almost all-consuming within Percival. More than food even, there was a pulsing desire to breed. 

Why would Grindelwald do such a thing? Making the werewolves was one thing but shaping them to breed? More so male vampires. Newt sighed out. 

He did recall mentions of a time before he was turned, where Grindelwald and Dumbledore had been thinking of having a child together. It was mostly to replace the loss of Ariana, Dumbledore’s sister. In the end, the idea was discarded and they never procreated. But Newt could see this as an offshoot of such an idea. Grindelwald experimented on poor souls, trying to shape them into breeding machines. But then he had made no female counterparts. It was clear they couldn’t breed with the other male werewolves or they would have by now. No, Grindelwald had made them and then dumped them in the Forbidden forest to go mad or die out. 

“He really is a horrid soul,” Newt muttered and Percival growled in agreement. 

The real question was if he sent Newt in here for that exact reason. Had he given Newt the way in with the intention of this happening? He must have known they would meet and interact. That Newt would be far too much of a temptation for the werewolves to resist. Had Grindelwald expected Newt to fight them off? No. He knew Newt too well unfortunately. He had to have known Newt would let this happen, seek it even, to help the species. 

“I really really, dislike that man.”

The idea of carrying young sat oddly with Newt. On the one hand, his body wasn’t shaped to have children. His pelvis couldn’t open to bear them, he didn’t have a vagina to deliver them with. He didn’t have a uterus to grow them. This was all magical and therefore far from stable. Newt supposed he was likely one of the first pregnancies if not the only. He knew that the werewolves in the world today were vague descendants from the werewolves here. They were mostly human, misshapen beasts, where the werewolves in the forest were massive wolves that could stand up like bears if they wished. The lesser werewolves would have children as humans and pass the blood along or they could bite and infect others. There was no unique breeding about them, it was possible Grindelwald or Dumbledore had suppressed that aspect. Newt wasn’t sure which one of them had a hand in the werewolves free in the world. He only knew there were many humanoid creatures they had made themselves in their experiments. They had done what they wanted in the beginning and after Arrania, they had both been fixated in finding a way to revive her. There were byproducts of that in the world today, giants, hags, goblins, veela, dementors, centaurs, merpeople, and manticores, there were others as well. An endless list of being that they had created over the centuries, scattered all across the world.

Newt supposed the idea of being pregnant wasn’t exactly that odd when he considered how far magic could reach. He had heard of human men bearing children with magic. The idea wasn’t impossible but Newt knew very little of it. He did know he couldn’t carry them to term. He would need somewhere safe to keep the fetus when it grew too large for his body to sustain. He also knew the child would be feeding off his own magic which was linked to his blood-drinking. That explained his sudden hunger at least. He would need to increase what he was drinking and begin to monitor it carefully to estimate how much he would need in late months. They had their little cave den but Newt would need to work better shielding and wards into it. To keep any dangers out, more so while his magic might be draining from him to support the fetus. 

But Newt realized that he was planning now. He would try for this, to keep this child alive. To help the werewolves trapped here. If Newt managed to have a female, it would be a chance for them. If he had a male that could be bred even. The idea of growing a life inside him was a bit off putting but he could manage to deal with that if it meant an entire race might have a chance. Beyond that, he knew there was something more. That he wanted this, wanted to have Percival’s child. It was like the need to hang off his knot and be filled up, a base animal drive. Newt was trying to be scientific about it, but he also recognized that he was also proud. Proud to have been bred and that it was Percival’s seed that had done it. The strongest of the males, the healthiest and best one. Newt would carry his young and something about it was pleasing in his hindbrain. 

“This will be interesting,” he told Percival. “I’m afraid I don't know the first thing about child care.”

Once he knew why, Percival’s new behaviours became much more clear. He was trying to guard Newt, to keep him safe and well-fed. Because in his Newt’s belly was a chance for his species to survive. Newt was extremely curious about Percival and his transformation, he wanted to know what Grindelwald had done to him and the others to change them. But even Newt realized how terribly wrong it would be to ask him outright. Percival might not recall and if he did, it wouldn’t be a pleasant memory from what he had already shown Newt. 

So Newt went back to his own research, it helped to have a werewolf trailing him constantly in that the predators left him alone. It did make it harder to find some prey species. Percival could hide from them with effort but he rarely used it of late, preferring to be seen and scaring off anything he perceived as a danger to Newt. So Newt studied the creatures that didn’t bother to hide away. The sort that was deeply poisonous and knew it, that nothing was going to eat them. Slugs up to his knee with vivid red colouring. Snuffling pigs that gleamed with a dusting poison they put in the air when startled. Gophers with a venomous bite and watchful eye. It helped him fill the time and Newt split his work between the magical creatures and his own changing body. Keeping track of his growing belly and backache. He drank more blood and did his best to keep his body in healthy shape. 

His body began to change rapidly in the following weeks. Newt on one hand was fascinated with his rapidly expanding stomach and the metamorphosis his body was undergoing. However, he was also very wary as aches and pains became common to him. His lower back was constantly smarting and that only grew sharper as the fetus grew. He noticed a new tenderness in his organs as well. Thankfully they were maintained with blood flow and magic and not still naturally working. Newt would expect the pressure on working organs would have caused a rupture if that were so. 

During the full moons, he could feel the baby moving around, as if called. His stomach would jolt and jerk which felt very, very, odd but not painful. Percival delighted in it, laying with his head on Newt’s belly carefully and feeling every movement with boundless joy.

Newt pet the werewolf’s fur idly, letting him have his fill as the moonlight shone into the cave. Early on, they had both lost interest in sex. Newt no longer craved the knot or seed and Percival wasn’t desperate to mate. They still coexisted together though, spending time just… being. Newt read steadily to Percival now, explaining ideas and breaking down concepts. Percival understood them with more and more ease. His sentience was growing by leaps and bounds, more so since the pregnancy and Newt wondered if they were linked. 

He stroked Percival’s warm fur and just watched the werewolf, ears perked as he listened to every little twitch in Newt’s belly. 

He felt far too fond of this beast.

How was he ever supposed to make plans to leave him now?

The only positive thing about the changes happening to his body was how fast it was happening. Newt didn’t know the gestation time of a werewolf but he was aware his body was developing the child far faster than human standards. It had only been three months into the pregnancy and already his stomach hung large and heavy. He could feel movement and kicking inside his body already. Newt expected only a month or so longer before his body would be ready. 

He kept his mind busy to swallow down his nervousness. He really had no idea how he was going to deliver this child and what research he had done wasn’t looking good. Newt didn’t have access to any healers in the forest and there was no way to communicate. He would have to do this alone with Percival’s support and hope for the best. He knew it was useless to worry about it so he tried to put it out of mind with his research. 

He was working on spells to help contain the fetus to finish growing, knowing he couldn’t last to a full term. But his magic was weak now, using it made him exhausted and he often had to drink heavily in the days that followed. 

But he was determined to figure it out, to keep the child in him safe. 

Come the next full moon, Newt expected the same surge in activity inside him as the last times. He would lay on his side and rub his belly as his unborn child would squirm wildly. 

The motions were starting to hurt this time however, reminding Newt he was running out of time. Percival nosed at him, ever worried and ever on guard. 

“It’s fine,” Newt reassured the werewolf and then his body jolted in a shocking pain. 

Newt felt it run up his spine and the next across his stomach. He tried to gasp out but could only grit his teeth as a sharp agonizing pain overtook him. It felt like pressure building up with nowhere to go and he sobbed out suddenly. Percival was nosing at his hair, panicked whines but Newt couldn’t even reassure him. 

Tears falling as he sobbed out. 

Newt’s own hands fell to his midsection and he could feel the skin pulled thin. He could actually feel the child trying to get out, digging at his insides. The pain was unbearable and it drove Newt, making him claw his own stomach, digging until the skin tore. 

It gave way in a rush, the pressure suddenly gone as Newt clawed his child out of him. Percival was at his side, sniffing the child as it spilled out of him, Newt struggled with the sensation of his midsection ripped open wide. 

Without thinking, he reached out and caught Percival’s wrist. Yanking it close and biting down hard. Percival gave a start but then went slack, pushing closer to Newt’s mouth as he drank deeply. Newt fought more tears of pain as he sucked the werewolf blood desperately. After eight or nine strong pulls he felt better, he could feel his midsections beginning to heal. Newt actually had to scoop his own organs back in. He had to pull his insides back into his own body and a part of his mind was delirious with horror at the very idea of it. 

Percival was letting Newt drink, but he also had his attention on the baby, the rasping of his tongue as he cleaned the newborn echoing in the cave. 

Once he had enough blood in him that he wasn’t in danger, Newt slowed down and made himself stop. He could have drunk more and he would need to feed again soon, but he didn’t want to suck Percival dry. Even with how fast he seemed to recover, Newt had drunk more than he had ever before, twice the amount even. The last thing they needed was to be weak with a baby to protect. 

Pulling away from the werewolf’s fur, Newt put pressure on the bite for the moment it took to heal over and then finally, finally, looked down. 

He was surprised to see two little pups instead of one, they were little werewolves like Percival. They looked like exact copies and Newt was grateful for that. Hybrids could have all sorts of health problems so the closer they were to one parent, the better. Both of them were squirming and very much alive. Percival had broken the clear sacks they were contained in and was licking their soaked bodies as they made sluggish little motions. Taking in their first scents of the new world. Newt curled around them and examined each with care. Two little males, dark fur like their father it seemed. They were both blind and deaf but that was normal in newborn canines. 

They both suckled on his fingers eagerly when he tested and Newt reached for his suitcase. He had formula prepared and with a warming spell, he got it ready and then gently offered a nub. He had thought he would have more time, but he had made this weeks ago. 

“There you go,” he cooed at his child, feeling a bit in awe. He always loved newborn creatures and his own offspring were no different. Both settled on a bottle, rushing to drink and Newt smiled happily. Healthy appetites were a good sign after all. Sighing out, he rested his head in the dirt and fought a deep yawn. 

He had done it. 

Newt had created new werewolves and survived it. He could help save this species. He had entire decades to work on doing so. But right then, he found himself focusing on his children and mate. Percival curled up and watched their offsprings with a raw and open adoration. Newt felt a deep fondness inside him answer and he smiled tiredly at the little puppies drinking. 

The den wasn’t warm enough for the shivering pups. They felt too small to him, able to fit into Newt’s palm with room to spare. But they were born and breathing on their own already. Newt cast warming spells and cleaning as well to fight off any illness lurking. They had a few furs down already but needed far more. 

Percival brought in deer and rabbits as soon as Newt shared the worry. It took time to skin them and make sure the venomous parts were cut away and cleaned off. He got used to skinning and tanning quickly, working for a week steady to make a warm place for the pups to sleep in. All the while keeping up steady warming spells to fight off the chill. 

When they made waste Percival licked it up, the need to hide the scent was too instinctual in him to ignore. When Newt saw any, he magiced it away. 

The pups cried when they were alone which meant one of them was in the den at all times, snuggled up with the sleeping or feeding pups. Newt learned to take notes on his side with his sons curled up against him. Percival never stayed far either, which must have made hunting harder, but he brought back steady kills and slept at the mouth of the cave always, blocking any would-be intruder. Newt had put up wards as well, to keep the predators out of their little space. 

The pups drank every few hours which meant a never-ending feeding schedule for Newt. Percival couldn't prepare the bottles and so Newt got used to cat naps instead of a full four or five hours. Even in the day time when the pull to sleep was the strongest, he would wake up to whimpers and make bottles for his children. This left him tired constantly and he found himself mostly napping and eating as he lived within the cave. It wasn’t ideal and he could feel his mind getting dreadfully bored but Newt refused to let anything endanger the pups. He took complicated and in-depth notes on them as well, weighting them and noting any changes from day to day. This helped him, letting him focus on their development. 

Sometimes he would just lay there and watch them sleep in the furs. Still a bit amazed that he had helped make them. That they had grown inside him, that he had carried life. 

But he was still dreadfully bored in the den all day and night.

It was a small miracle for him that his pups grew just as fast as they had inside him. Opening their eyes after a week and hearing in only five. They were beginning to move and slowly learning their feet by the second week. They had tripled in size thankfully and their fur had come in much thicker, keeping them warmer. 

“I suppose I should name you both? I’ve been meaning to,” he explained, watching his son’s ears perk at the sound of his voice. They were learning to hear for him more, knowing his movements from Percival’s. 

“Kevin perhaps? Ulysses? Harlow? Maybe Arthur? Lancelot? I’ve been thinking, honestly a great deal. But I just can’t decide, it seems more important than ever to pick something that fits,” Newt mused with a yawn. His older son came to shove his muzzle into Newt’s mouth curiously. They were exploring now, wandering the den with curious eyes. Digging under the layers of fur and sniffing the stone walls. 

“Stop that,” Newt scolded gently. “The two of you will be trouble, I can already tell,” he teased lightly, wiggling his fingers for his pup to chase. He was still learning to walk, wobbling a bit with each step but determined. Newt felt a fondness fill him as he watched the two bumble about. 

Newt was going to raise them well, teach them all he could about being careful within the forest. Percival would teach them how to hunt properly, how to be werewolves. Newt looked up from the furs to the entrance, blocked by the heavy bulk of Percival, his tail thumping gently to play with their youngest. The small pup flopping onto the tail and following its movements with his new sight. Percival was a very good father, doting on the pups and ever-patient as they pulled at his lips and flopped on his head. He never growled at them, ever spoiling the little trouble makers. Newt watched Percival coddle their pups and wondered how long it would be before the werewolf was trying to breed him up again. 

“You’ll grow big and strong now, won’t you?”

Romulus and Remus were the names they decided on. Well, Newt picked and Percival accepted them. Newt supposed he named Percival as well. But either way, their names were given and the pups began to learn to respond to them.

The next big issue began when the pups started taking an interest in the mouth of the cave. Percival would block it and pick them up in his mouth and return them to the far back of the cave. But the puppies knew something was interesting there and both began to grow determined to see what it was. Newt knew they were at the development that they should be making ventures outside but he still fretted about it. The Forbidden Forest was packed full of all sorts of beasts that would be happy for the free meal. 

Eventually, they had to let them explore. 

Newt picked a clean night with plenty of moonlight for their first venture out. He prepared wards and cast out a few spells to make sure Romulus and Remus would be safe. There were no predators and there wasn’t anything poisonous near the den mouth. 

Percival was agitated but let Newt guide their pups. 

Both of them however, seemed far less sure when they discovered their den was in fact, a small place. The endless sky and tall trees seemed scary to the tiny babies. Both whined pitifully and Percival was at their side at once. They clamoured under him and walked close to their father. Newt could see a burning curiosity about them but a nice rational fear keeping them close to their father and thus safe. 

The first time outside lasted only a few minutes before they were crying for the comfort of the den. 

Each day after that, Newt and Percival took them out, just a few feet from the den. As they got used to it, they grew more bold and sniffed at plants and took in their world. 

It was always amazing to watch, to see creatures emerging from their dens and this was no different. Newt felt his heart far too full as he smiled and watched his pups explore gingerly. 

The pups were about a month old when Newt began to feel that hunger in him stirring. Laying down to sleep with his sons, he glanced at Percival and noticed his lithe form. That the werewolf was a powerful male and had made good offsprings. As if sensing it, Percival looked to Newt and he felt lust trickle down his back in reaction. 

The problem was they couldn’t leave the pups unattended. 

Eventually, though the urge was too much to ignore. 

When the pups were well fed and sleeping deeply, Newt went crawling under Percival. The werewolf at once scrambling up and over Newt. He pressed his trousers down and cast a quick preparation spell before doing onto his hands and knees. 

“Hurry up,” Newt breathed, feeling all riled up but not wanting curious pups intruding. 

Percival understood and Newt muffled a gasp as the thick cock pressed at his hole. He nudged back and the length pressed up with more force. After a breath, his body gave in and Newt was being filled up. It didn’t burn as it should have, it just felt good and oh so right. Newt felt his eyes flutter a bit. He hadn’t realized how much he missed sex until that moment. Feeling the intimate connection with Percival as the werewolf slid into him. 

It was a quick union, a handful of thrusts and then Newt was shaking apart as Percival knotted him tightly. Both panting a bit. The feeling of that fat bulbous knot inside Newt made him swallow whines as he came and squeezed down on it. Percival rumbled in his ear and Newt looked up, turning to the beast over his back as Percival licked at his neck and chin. Newt parted his lips and Percival’s long tongue slipped in deeply. Licking inside his mouth and Newt moaned softly as the delicious sensations as he sat on the werewolves knot and the both of them came apart over and over. 

They kept it up, steady sessions of quick knottings while the pups slept. 

Eventually, Romulus woke up once but he didn’t seem interested in his parents cuddling tightly. After a few curious inspections, Remus was the same. The puppies left Newt and Percival alone when they mated. Their cave entrance was always sealed off with magic so the puppies couldn’t go exploring as well. The entire family holed up when Percival and Newt knotted. 

Romulus and Remus were about four months when the other werewolves became involved. Newt’s sons had both grown rapidly but were still puppy dumb, sniffing at things that would bite and being shocked when they got bitten. But thankfully they were already nearing Newt in size and would soon be able to defend themselves just fine. 

Percival didn’t like leaving them but with three mouths to feed he was hunting far more and the game was getting harder to find. This meant he had to go further to find prey. Sometimes he took the boys and was teaching them to hunt but on this day he left them with Newt. They were on a walk along the stream, Newt looking for frogs as he had noted that he had seen at least four new types in the area when he first arrived. 

“Be careful,” he called to Romulus who was always too curious for his own good. Remus was more cautious, thank the heavens. 

Newt spotted the alligator a second before Romulus stepped too close. He shouted a warning too late and his heart jumped into his throat. 

But the trees rumbled and a werewolf arrived. Newt thought for a second it was Percival but it was too small. It was one of the others. With a snarl, he tore into the alligator and Romulus yelped and ran to Newt’s side to hide in fear. 

It was Bedivere, a dark brown mid-sized werewolf. He had been aggressive but not overly so Newt recalled. Watching now as he tore into the alligator fiercely and ripped it up until it was good and dead. 

Then he turned his gaze to Newt and his sons. Newt prepared to defend them but to his surprise the male didn’t approach, watching but not coming any closer. 

Finally, he let out a sound, something between a whine and a grunt. Both Romulus and Remus looked intrigued with the newcomer, ears perked as they peered at him wearily. 

A crack in the trees caught their attention and Bedivere took off in a dead run just before Percival appeared and took after him intently. He ran the other werewolf off, chased him far away but it seemed to break a dam that not even Percival could stop. 

All of the other werewolves started to come around. Daring Percival’s wrath to get a peek at Newt and his sons. Romulus and Remus were fascinated with these new werewolves and Newt was careful but not as guarded at Percival. It became very clear very quickly that the other werewolves were trying to make friends. 

Percival was grumpy about it all, never liking others in his territory but Newt could feel Percival understood as well. Romulus and Remus were maturing quickly and would eventually take an interest in sex. Even though they were both males, it didn’t hinder the others from their interest. 

As the months drifted by, more situations happened similarly. The older werewolves were going out of their way to protect and feed Newt’s young. Laving fresh kills and chasing off predators. 

They wanted their species to survive as well it seemed. 

The boys were six months old and taller than Newt now. The den was cramped and his sons were starting to wander on their own a bit. It seemed like his body timed it perfectly because Newt could feel the change. He knew he was pregnant again and Percival was overjoyed once more. Keeping Newt close and torn between watching him at all times and minding their sons. 

When Percival would hunt with Romulus and Remus, Gawain and Geriant would come around to visit Newt. They didn’t attempt anything sexual, just sitting near him. Newt never minded them before and now he felt the same. They were the smallest and most submissive of the werewolves. 

“It’s very fascinating, how the flower only blooms when it knows nothing is nearby to munch on it.” he explained idly. Both werewolves liked the sound of his voice. All the werewolves he had encountered liked it, Newt realized, ever talking a stream of chatter for them to listen too. He hoped he could give them a measure of comfort as he did with Percival. 

Both of the small beasts were clever and sneaky but eventually, Percival caught them. Crashing through the trees and snarling at the pair. 

Newt got up then, raising a hand and stepping between his mate and Gawain and Geriant who were cowering. 

“Stop it, they don’t mean any harm,” he informed Percival. The werewolf looked torn between the instinct to chase and Newt’s words. 

“I’m already pregnant, Percival, they can’t steal me away in that sense, and I don’t think they would even try.”

Both of the other werewolves had taken off but Percival didn’t chase them. 

Slowly when he saw them he stopped attempting to immediately lunge. The pair caught on and were Newt’s shadows at once, following him around like pups. Remus and Romulus were very intrigued with them as well. Neither older male were dominant types and so they were the perfect interactions for his sons. Percival grumbled about it all but didn’t interfere and the four werewolves got used to each other. 

Romulus took to wrestling the males down and chasing them playfully. Remus would just sit quietly with them, content. Gawain was a light grey colour and more playful than Geriant. Newt noticed that Romulus took to wrestling him around often and wondered if his sons could mate and breed the submissive werewolves. 

Before he could really observe and theorize, Newt found himself too pregnant. His belly ached and he slept more and more in the den. He should have more time but he was much bigger than last time. Percival fed him eagerly, always providing for Newt as he slept more and more. 

It was a week earlier than his first pregnancy when Newt felt the blinding pain. He was more prepared and had a knife to slit his own stomach open. He also had a great deal of numbing salve and potions for pain that he swallowed the second the pups were out of him. He didn't want to risk harming them with anything so he waited until they came to dull his agony. 

Four puppies this time, small squirming things. Percival was there at once, carefully ripping their sacs and licking the puppies to clear their airways. He chewed or ripped each umbilical cord with care and gobbled up the afterbirth as Newt laid on his side and tried to breathe through the intense pain he was in, even with potions. Newt had bottled blood this time as well, eight litres that he drank rapidly, gulping one after another as his body did it’s best to heal itself. 

Just like last time, Newt slept a great deal and woke to feed the pups by bottle. The days began to blur as he banded with his newborns and left their safety to Percival, who guarded them vigilantly. There were three males and one female this time. 

Newt decided on greek names and went with Hades, Hermes, Ares and Demeter. 

It went easier the second time around, Newt having a rough timeline for their development now. 

When it was time for them to venture out of the den, Remus and Romulus came to visit. Percival was growly but allowed them close. From a distance, Gawain watched and Gaheris, one of the most dominant werewolves was there as well. Never coming too close because Percival would stare them down and start snarling warningly. 

Remus had a notable weight about his midsection and Newt was almost sure his son was pregnant. 

“Already?” he asked his boy and Remus surprised him by nodding. The boys were sentient and learning words but this was a new development. 

“Well, if you feel the urge,” Newt supposed, kissing his son’s chin and nuzzling him lovingly. 

Just like last time, the urges woke in Newt while the pups were still in the den and Percival and Newt would quietly mate, knotting tightly as their children slept on. Newt hadn’t expected to like it so much, having a family like this. Tucked into a den with little ones to mind and a mate to ride. He had always expected to be on his own, to wander the world and learn everything there was to learn. Now his priorities were all different. He still liked to research beasts and learn but he also had to balance minding his pups and checking on his older ones. Hunting and feeding everyone, keeping predators away. The other werewolves trickled in more the second round of pups, coming closer and helping with their care. More guardians to help fend off dangers which Newt was grateful for with four scampering pups this time. None of the werewolves ever showed aggression to the puppies and Newt knew they all understood the importance of the new lives. 

Remus eventually came around with two pups of his own and not long after Romulus visited with Gawain heavy with his own litter. 

They would breed quickly Newt realized. 

In thirty years the Forbidden forest might be too small for his family. 

  
  


Dumbledore and Grindelwald were both waiting when the thirty years had passed. The two powerful vampires standing united, they must be getting on well then. Newt left the safety of the tree line and raised a hand to acknowledge them. Not far from the pair, Newt could see Theseus and Leta waiting as well. Other vampires as well, those trusted by Dumbledore. So Grindelwald wasn’t that trusted then. 

The faint outline of the seal was still present, but with the moon rising high, Newt knew it was going to be at its weakest soon. If he was to leave, he would go then or be trapped for another thirty years. 

“Hello,” Dumbledore greeted, looking a bit scolding but also pleased to see Newt. He moved to the seal as well, offering a weak smile, knowing he had gone directly against the older vampire’s wishes. 

“Hello,” Newt replied, shifting his suitcase in his hand. 

“How has your research been?”

Newt perked up immediately. 

“Rather amazing! There are so many creatures within the forbidden forest, some entirely unique to this ecosystem. The forest itself is amazing, it’s developed in ways I’ve never seen anywhere else in the world. The sheer magic here is stunning!”

Dumbledore chuckled finally and Newt felt a measure of relief. 

“I’ve learned so much, I’ve got entire books filled now!” Newt added. 

Grindelwald was approaching them as well, wearing a smug smirk. 

“You see? I told you your favoured boy would be here waiting faithfully. You should put more confidence in your young ones.”

Before anyone could reply the moon reached its point and the seal was at its weakest. Dumbledore held out a had and space within the seal opened up immediately, 

Newt stepped through and glanced up. Dumbledore was watching him along with Grindelwald but only one of them noticed. Even then, Grindelwald did nothing to stop him as Newt raised a hand to the seal. 

“Newt!” Dumbledore shot forward but Newt pushed his magic into the barrier, packing everything he had behind it. He wasn’t nearly as powerful as either of the vampires before him, but the seal was exposed, the careful magic sustaining it was weak at that moment. Ancient magic, something made long before Newt, shattered. 

“Newton,” Dumbledore breathed, a great disappointment in his gaze but Newt knew he was right. 

“You’re not a god,” he announced calmly. “Neither of you,” he added at Grindelwald. 

Newt sighed out, feeling bad to upset his maker but sure. 

“You can’t decide who gets to exist in this world. You can’t create life and then casually toss it away because it didn’t do what you wanted. It’s not fair to the creatures within the forest, even those not sentient. But to those who are...you've looked them up simply for existing. In most cases, you're the reason they exist in the first place.”

Dumbledore was listening a bit, looking weary now, tired. Grindelwald was pleased, looking downright self-satisfied. 

“I suppose you planned this?” Newt asked, peering at the dark vampire. Dumbledore’s gaze swung to Grindelwald as well. 

“Not exactly. But I thought perhaps it should be looked into. Who better to be the judge than someone who would be fair?” He gestured towards Newt. 

“Someone with more wisdom,” Dumbledore cut in. “We must close this seal once more, Newt there are too many dark and deadly beasts within.”

“No. Grindelwald is right, surprisingly so. There is nothing in here inherently evil like you think. These beasts should be free, I won’t let you trap them again. Even now,” Newt glanced to his side. He could hear the creatures, running with all their might. Any of them that were sentient Newt had warned already, explained this might be their only chance to leave the forest if they wished. 

“They shall be collected,” Dumbledore sighed, looking back to those he had gathered. 

“No,” Newt said, with more intensity now. He needed to make his maker understand, or it would all turn into fighting. “They're not dangerous, not in the way you think. They're not evil.”

“What shall you do?” Grindelwald teased, leaning in to smirk at Newt. But there was genuine curiosity in his gaze, Newt wondered how much he already knew. 

Percival was at his back in a flash with a snarl, the other werewolves coming to heel as well. The dominant werewolf never could stand strangers getting closer to Newt. The original werewolves all there, as well as Newt’s children. Once they had grown old enough, all his young had paired off with the other werewolves and produced plenty of grandchildren for him and Percival.

Newt could see the delighted shock in Grindelwald’s gaze, always one for chaos. Dumbledore looked far more on guard but despite that, there was a keen interest in his gaze. The other vampires were all startled. Newt supposed they had never been snuck up on before. Much less so many creatures, all locked on them. 

There were hundreds now. 

All of them powerful and created to be able to match and overpower vampires. 

“As I said,” Newt repeated slowly, “You're not going to lock anyone up anymore.” 

“Newt,” Dumbledore sounded pained and Newt did feel terrible but he wouldn’t let his children be caged. It wasn’t right that all of the creatures were trapped as they were. They had a right to live and Newt was willing to face his maker to try and give them that chance.

“The forest is too small now, they need room to spread out, need new bloodlines to survive,” Newt explained reasonably. 

“Well, this should be interesting,” Grindelwald commented looking prepared for a fight. Percival snarled in answer, eager for revenge on the dark wizard who experimented on him. 

“Wait.” A soft voice called, one Newt didn’t know. A young girl appearing from a glamor to hide her. 

“You agreed to stay hidden,” Dumbledore fretted and the tone in his voice was enough to tell Newt who this was. He had never heard the man so worried before. 

Ariana.

So Grindelwald has discovered a way to wake the poor girl after all. 

“This is wrong,” Ariana told her brother, glancing at Newt. “This man is right, these poor things shouldn’t be caged.” 

Newt hadn’t expected that. 

“They’re dangerous-“

Ariana held up a hand and surprisingly Dumbledore stopped. 

“I know first hand,” his sister began. “How people treat you when they deem you dangerous,”

She was an obscurial, Newt recalled suddenly. Her life wouldn’t have been easy, her magic unstable. It was seen as a fatal illness and usually the person was seen as someone to be exterminated or locked up rather than saved. 

“And I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of your magic, both of you,” she glanced at Grindelwald.

“You’re forgetting the most important aspect of all of this.” The young woman turned then, peering at Newt and then at Percival looming over him.

“Hello,” she offered, not just to Newt but Percival as well.

“Uh, good evening?” Newt replied, feeling Percival lower so his muzzle rested on Newt’s head. 

“He says hello as well, and asks your name?” Newt explained politely. Over the years their telepathy had strengthened enough for communication to this level. Newt liked giving Percival a voice. 

“My name is Ariana,” she replied with a soft smile.

Newt passed what he knew about her to Percival, her obscurial nature and her endless sleep for centuries. 

“It’s my understanding that you wish to leave the forest?” 

“He does very much, but also,” Newt glanced up at his mate. “He wants our children to be free. The forest is massive but it’s becoming cramped with each new birth. We just want freedom for them.” 

“That makes sense,” Ariana agreed. “I can understand wanting to be free.” 

“Were you conscious the whole time?” Newt asked with fascination before he could stop himself. “I had always wondered.” 

She nodded her head and offered him a weak smile.

“Thank you for reading to me, all those times, I appreciated it.” 

Newt blinked recalling when he would read aloud in her rooms, thinking she might like the sound. It had been a silly impulse with nothing behind it really. But now it was real and he had helped this poor girl. 

“I’m glad.” 

Ariana looked back to Dumbledore and Grindelwald, and to Newt’s astonishment, neither looked willing to go against her. Dumbledore made sense, but Grindelwald as well? Newt was very curious about that. 

“I agree with Newt,” she announced again. “Before they are dangerous, they are alive and deserve respect for that.”

Her gaze went back to Percival. 

“I’m glad to meet you and your family,” she told him and Percival peered at her a moment before nodding his head, looking rather regal now. All of the werewolves were waiting, looking to Percival and Newt for guidance. 

“Will you let us leave?” Newt asked Dumbledore. 

The man gave a great heaving sigh but the fight drained out of him as he looked at his sisters back. 

“Truly, Albus,” Newt spoke, drawing his maker’s gaze. “If something within these woods could end the world I wouldn’t let them escape, you know that?”

After a moment the vampire nodded his head. 

“Yes, I do trust you Newt.”

“Really? Seems like he's gone a bit native,” Grindelwald commented, peering at Newt. He replied with a frown at the manipulative man. 

“I feel like that was very much your intent the moment you offered me a way in.”

Grindelwald didn’t give anything away but Newt was certain. 

“Welcome to the world,” Ariana offered to Percival and Newt ignored Grindelwald to focus on the kind girl. He had worried and prepared to fight his way out, but this, this was far better.

He and his family were free now, his children could find their place in the world and Newt could show Percival all the places he had longed to over the years. Newt felt a great joy bloom in his chest and he knew it was neither his nor Percival’s alone. 

It belonged to them both. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked!

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Newt literally rips open his own abdomen to deliver some werepups when they begin trying to scratch their way out of him. This includes his internal organs spilling out and such. He's fine tho cause he a vampire. 
> 
> So, I'll be posting this in chapters by the week, three in all, should post em on each Thursday coming!   
> I've had people asking why I'm doing chapter and it's mainly to stagger the posting and let those on my patreon get something extra, aka the full work. But rest assured, everything I post in chapters is still already finished so I'll never not finish a work. 
> 
> Hope everyone is doing well and staying safe!!! <3


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